


Christmas Advent Calendar

by honggjoongie



Series: Ateez Holiday Oneshots [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Character Death, Cheating, Christmas, Christmas Party, Fluff, Idols, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mistletoe, Murder, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poetry, Polyamory, Rimming, Science Fiction, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide, Teasing, Violence, Wolf Pack, Woosan, jongsang, seongjoong, woosang - Freeform, yungi, yunsan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honggjoongie/pseuds/honggjoongie
Summary: 20 Ateez short stories from holiday related prompts
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Ateez Holiday Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990513
Comments: 27
Kudos: 109





	1. I Am Strong

**Author's Note:**

> This month I'm doing something a little different than just one holiday story. I found these prompts from:  
> https://foreverendeavour.uk/2019/12/03/writing-challenge-advent-calendar/  
> I didn't come up with them. (:
> 
> Anyways, I'll be uploading one every day with different characters and ships, and I'll update the tags when I upload a new chapter. Most of them have some sort of relationship aspect, but not all of them. I'll put the prompts at the end of the chapters.
> 
> IMPORTANT: Some of the chapters do have dark concepts and aspects, so please be aware of the tags, and I'll put a warning at the beginning of those chapters. Please skip them if you're not comfortable, and please read safely. 
> 
> I'm trying out some new stuff that I'm excited about, and I really hope you guys like it!!

Hongjoong stares at himself in the mirror, splashes water on his face and watches the droplets slide down his skin and drip into the sink, where his hands are gripping the sides of it so hard his knuckles have gone white, and he tells himself that he is strong. 

He’s the one who leads a group of 8 men, helping them traverse through the public eye and stitch themselves together when everything seems like it’s falling apart. He’s the one who steps forward, who speaks up even when he feels frozen in place, because that’s what he has to do. He’s the one who makes tough decisions and faces the consequences head on, because fear and indecision aren’t in a leader’s job description. 

He looks into his own eyes in the mirror, hardened with resolution, and he reminds himself that he’s strong. 

He’s the one that the other members look to for guidance when their lives have twisted themselves into an impassable maze. He’s a shoulder for them to cry on in the quiet of their dorm, an ear to listen to their worries, their doubts and uncertainties, a voice of reason to clear the clouds of confusion that loom overhead every so often. 

He bears the weight of 8 lives on his shoulders, and he does it standing tall, his head held high. He does it because he knows their passion, their love for their fans and their art. He does it because it’s worth it. 

He looks at the bags under his eyes, at his tangled hair from how many times he’s run his fingers through it, and he tells himself that he’s strong. He tells himself that he’s strong, and that it’s worth it. He screws his eyes shut, and grips the sink harder to keep his hands from shaking. 

Sometimes, the pressure gets to Hongjoong, making every step feel heavier, every word a little more muddled in his mouth. It gets particularly bad during the holidays, when the members are aching to spend time with their families, torn between their home and their work. Hongjoong is always there for them: to encourage, comfort, and support them. He wouldn’t have it any other way, but sometimes the pressure gets to him. 

His head swirls with his own doubts and insecurities, wondering if he’ll ever be good enough, if this is all truly worth it. He misses his own family, misses the peaceful calm that was the holidays before he became an idol. His chest tightens painfully, his lungs refusing to fill as he leans against the sink. He takes in a shaky breath, blinks against the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

He takes another deep breath, steeling himself to go back out into his shared room with Seonghwa. He’s determined to be strong for him, for all of them. He stands up straight again, focusing on breathing evenly and leaving his anxiety behind, but when he walks out of the bathroom he can’t help but feel it clawing at his back. 

Seonghwa is already laying in bed, his hair still damp from his shower as he scrolls idly on his phone. Hongjoong crawls into his own bed, turning off the lamp next to it and laying between the cold sheets, staring up at the ceiling. He’s sure it’s only in his head when it starts lowering to close in on him. He feels his breath picking up again, and he shuts his eyes against the feeling, wishing sleep would ease the tightness lodged in his throat. 

He doesn’t realize his hands are fisting the sheets, his heart beating wildly as he once again tries to tell himself that he’s strong, that he’s made it through everything up until now. He thinks about how much he’s overcome, in his life and in his career, and he knows it’s made him stronger. He tries to tell himself that he’s strong, even though right now he feels anything but. 

When Seonghwa asks him if he’s okay, his voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear it, he feels like any strength he has bleeds out of him. He can’t keep the tears from falling, his limbs heavy with worry. Seonghwa sits up in alarm, asking him what’s wrong but receiving no response. Hongjoong tries to play it off, tries to wipe away the tears and assume the air of confidence that has gotten him through so many situations, but more tears just take their place against his will.

Seonghwa calls him over to his bed, gently enough that it cuts through the chaos in Hongjoong’s head. He doesn’t allow himself to think as he climbs out of his bed and walks over to Seonghwa’s, where he peeled the comforter back for Hongjoong to lay next to him. Hongjoong lets out a sigh when he does, already able to breathe easier with the warmth and clean scent of Seonghwa around him. 

He turns to nestle into Seonghwa’s chest as he wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. He curls against the older, holds onto his waist and lets himself feel everything, lets the tears fall freely. Seonghwa rubs his back, his voice sweet in his ear, telling him he’s enough, telling him that he’s strong. 

He lays like that until his cries die down to occasional sniffles and the storm in his head calms, leaving him unfeeling of any remaining tendrils of fear or doubt. In the wake of his emotional onslaught he feels exhausted, his eyes drooping. He mumbles his thanks to Seonghwa, who assures him he doesn’t need to be thanked. 

As he drifts off, Hongjoong thinks that he’s strong. He’s strong for realizing that he’s not alone, that he can ask for help as much as he gives it. Before he falls into blissful sleep, he thinks that it’s also okay to be weak, that sometimes he needs support, and he can find it in his members, in Seonghwa. He thinks that no matter what happens, whether he can weather the storm on his own and draw from his own strength, or allow himself to be comforted by others, to fall apart and let them help put him back together, the one thing he’s sure of is that he is strong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Write a monologue titled 'I Am Strong'
> 
> This is more of an internal monologue, but I still count it. I'm not sure exactly how monologue-esque it is, but oh well, they're not really my forte and it's close enough, lol
> 
> Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought!


	2. Soulmates

“How could you lie to me? Did you think you would get away with this?” Seonghwa’s words are cold and biting as Wooyoung stares wide eyed from where he’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

Wooyoung had just finished showering and getting dressed, hadn’t heard his phone go off from where he’d left it in their bedroom. Seonghwa had absentmindedly checked it, and had stumbled on his incriminating texts with San. Wooyoung realizes that it’s the oldest mistake in the book. He thinks that maybe he was so reckless because he’s keeping a secret from his boyfriend that he never wanted to in the first place. 

Weeks before, Wooyoung had gone out with his best friend Yeosang, the two of them looking for a night of carefree dancing. He’d dressed up, felt confident, eager for a night to destress from work and life. He’d wanted Seonghwa to go, but he had to work late, so it was just him and Yeosang.

The night had gone smoothly for a couple hours, the two of them downing only enough drinks to feel pleasantly fuzzy and dancing until a layer of sweat was coating their skin, Wooyoung’s heart beating in time with the music. He laughed easily, ignoring everyone around him to enjoy the pounding bass and flashing lights. 

He’d been thinking about suggesting to Yeosang that they call an uber back to his apartment, turning to face his friend next to him when instead his eyes landed on a stranger across the room. 

The man was only standing near the edge of the room, his face neutral as he surveyed the club, but when Wooyoung saw him, he suddenly felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. It wasn’t the fact that Wooyoung thought he was gorgeous, or the way his dark clothes hugged his toned body. He’d seen lots of attractive people in the over a year he’d been with Seonghwa, and none of them had made his thoughts or urges stray from his boyfriend. 

It was the way that when his eyes fell on the man, he felt like everything else fell away, like nothing else mattered and he couldn’t breathe until he touched him, until he knew him, until he was his. It was the way that even just seeing the man filled a piece of Wooyoung that he didn’t even know was missing, making him feel complete in a way that he didn’t think was possible, that he’d only ever heard stories about.

His feet moved without his permission, the annoyed mumbles from the people whose shoulders he was bumping into to cross the room were nothing but white noise. When Wooyoung was close, and the man turned, catching Wooyoung’s gaze, Wooyoung saw the way his eyes widened, his mouth falling open as awe fell over his face. Wooyoung knew that the feeling that had taken over him, the racing pulse, tingling running through him, the overwhelming need to be close to the other, he knew that the stranger was feeling it too. 

He forced himself to come up with a plan as he shuffled through the crowd; he would talk to the man, find out who he was, maybe find a time to sit down and have a conversation with him. 

The man moved forward to meet him, and Wooyoung’s plan went out the window when both of them reached out, pulling the other into a searing kiss. 

He couldn’t think of anything but the way the man’s lips felt on his, the warmth that surged through him, making his chest feel too full, an unfamiliar buzz humming just below the surface that he never wanted to stop. 

He kissed him like he needed it to live, like he needed their lips slotted perfectly together the way he needed oxygen. In that moment he couldn’t deny that he felt like he did. His hands tangled in the man’s hair, the man’s hands around Wooyoung’s waist, every touch like fire on his already heated body. He gasped when the man broke the kiss to trail his lips down Wooyoung’s neck, the feeling almost too much, every one of his sensations heightened.

“I don’t even- ah-” Wooyoung cut off when the man’s teeth nipped at his skin, and he tilted his head to give him more access, “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s San.” He breathed against Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung was glad to have a name to put to the breathtaking face. “What’s yours?” 

“W- Wooyoung.” 

San hummed in response, deep and low, “God, you’re so beautiful, baby.” 

Wooyoung shivered at the pet name, the praise lodging more warmth in his heart, making his breath hitch.

He pulled San up to capture his lips again, craving the swell of heat and rush of endless new feelings that San brought to the surface. His mind went foggy with everything that was kissing San, their chests pressed firmly together, Wooyoung’s breath stolen. He couldn’t hold in a small moan when San slipped his tongue in his mouth, already aware of just how to make Wooyoung’s knees go weak.

Wooyoung’s head spun when his body jolted to the side, making him break away from San and leaving him jarred.

“Wooyoung what the fuck!?” Yeosang’s voice cut through the thrum of people and music. 

Before Wooyoung could catch up, San was rushing forward, fisting the front of Yeosang’s shirt, radiating warning. 

“Don’t touch him!” San growled.

Wooyoung forced himself to move before Yeosang could respond, lodging himself in between the two with a hand on each of their chests. He saw nearby heads turn towards them, curious about the commotion. 

“Who is he?” San asked Wooyoung, gesturing to Yeosang, still seeming to be ready to go for his throat if Wooyoung so much as hinted at it. 

“It’s okay, he’s my friend.” Wooyoung assured him.

“Wooyoung, let’s go. Now.” Yeosang’s voice was hard, demanding, cutting off anything else San wanted to say. 

Yeosang started to lead, and Wooyoung followed, feeling claustrophobic surrounded by the throng of people and stuffy air. They didn’t get very far before Wooyoung was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned back to see San looking at him with confusion and guilt laced through his features.

“Please don’t go.” San pleaded.

Wooyoung nearly melted, already feeling impossibly whipped for the near stranger in front of him.

“I’ll be back okay? Just wait for me at the bar.” 

San nodded and seemed to relax, his hand slipping off of Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung couldn’t keep from missing his touch as he turned to follow Yeosang through the crowd. 

Wooyoung took deep breaths of the cool air when they were outside of the club. That was as far as he got before the crushing weight of what he’d done caught up to him, making his throat tighten dangerously. His breaths felt labored as he thought of Seonghwa, the burn of remorse when he realized how much he betrayed him, how he hadn’t even thought about it when he saw San. As Wooyoung struggled to keep himself composed, Yeosang was facing away from him, seeming to do the same. 

“You have a lot of fucking explaining to do.” Yeosang’s words were tight, clipped in a way that Wooyoung hadn’t heard very many times in their lengthy friendship, and it had never been aimed towards him. 

Wooyoung couldn’t bring himself to talk, couldn’t sort through the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions coursing through him.

“Wooyoung seriously, what the hell!? What’s wrong with yo-” Yeosang whipped around, his voice raised, but when he saw Wooyoung he froze. 

Wooyoung had tears streaming down his face, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he sat on the concrete with his back against the building. Wooyoung saw Yeosang’s face fall, his anger falling with it. 

“Please, just talk to me.” Yeosang sat down next to him, his head turned towards him. 

Wooyoung crumpled further into himself as a sob ripped from his chest. He let everything out in a rush of stammered words, each one falling over the next as he tried to even begin to explain to his friend how he felt when he saw San, when he got close to him. Silence fell over the pair as Yeosang took in everything he’d said, until Wooyoung added what he’d been afraid to.

“Yeo I- I think I might’ve found my soulmate.” 

They’d all heard the stories of the lucky ones who found their soulmates. While it was rare, it did happen, and it was undeniable when it did. They learned about soulmates, but most people didn’t expect to find theirs in their lifetime.

“Woo, I don’t- that doesn’t happen, you’re just drunk.” 

“No, I haven’t had that much to drink, and even if I had I would never just do that to Hwa, I love him.” Desperation filled Wooyoung’s words, “I can’t explain it, but it’s exactly how they always said it would be, how everyone who found their soulmates described it, but so much more.” Wooyoung let his head hang, “You don’t understand. I don’t even understand...” 

He had no doubts that that’s what had happened, that he met his soulmate tonight, but it still did little to ease the guilt that had settled in him, the sharp sting of shame and remorse. He’d never meant for this to happen. 

“Okay… okay,” Yeosang relented, “but you have to tell Seonghwa, about everything.” 

Wooyoung’s heart dropped at the thought. “I know, I will.” 

Once their conversation was over, instead of crashing at Wooyoung’s apartment, Yeosang took his own uber home. Wooyoung could tell he left still feeling uncertain and upset. He was Seonghwa’s friend too, but Wooyoung was glad that he trusted him to work through it on his own. 

When Yeosang was gone, Wooyoung took one more deep breath, and he worked his way back through the club. He was relieved when he saw San sitting at the bar nursing a drink, and he felt the undeniable pull towards him again. He sat down next to him, and when San turned towards him, giving him a wide smile, dimples on either side, he knew he was fucked.

That night, he talked to San, got to know him more, got his phone number, and left before he could lose control of himself more than he already had. He went home fully prepared to tell Seonghwa everything, but when Seonghwa asked him if he had a good night, tucked underneath their comforter, hair messy and voice muffled with sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to crush him. 

So he lied. 

Weeks later, he still hadn’t gotten the courage to confront the problem, too afraid to come clean and tell Seonghwa about San, even with Yeosang’s constant urging. It killed him every single day, the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Seonghwa. He didn’t let himself see San again, even though everything in him wanted to. Instead, he texted him, called him when he could. He explained everything to San, who was patient and understanding. They talked about that night often, both of them sure of what they felt. 

Those are the texts that Seonghwa saw, the reason that he’s now looking at Wooyoung with heartbreak in his eyes, the rest of his face like stone while he waits for him to say something.

“I- Hwa, I can explain.” Wooyoung starts.

Seonghwa scoffs, his expression twisting into rage.

“Yes, please do Wooyoung. Please explain to me why you’re texting some guy about kissing him, about being his soulmate!?” Seonghwa’s voice raises as he talks, looming over Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung has to fight not to cower under his fury, knowing that he has to face the mess that he’d caused. Seonghwa deserves an explanation. 

He lets out a sigh, “It was that night, weeks ago, that I went out with Yeosang. I met San there, and I don’t even- I don’t even know what happened.” Wooyoung sees Seonghwa’s eyes narrow with recognition. “I can’t explain how I knew, I just did. He’s my soulmate. But I didn’t… I didn’t mean to kiss him.”

Seonghwa screws his eyes shut, turning his head away from Wooyoung’s words. Wooyoung feels tears fall, but he wipes them away. 

“I haven’t seen him again since that night. I was going to tell you, I promise. I just couldn’t find a way.” He doesn’t let himself look away from Seonghwa’s eyes when he’s finished, forcing himself to see them fill with pain and distrust. “I’m so so sorry Seonghwa.”

“What did you expect, what did you honestly think would happen with us, that everything would just be fine?” Seonghwa bites. 

“I don’t, I don’t know.. I just didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Seonghwa lets out a humourless laugh as he sets Wooyoung’s phone down on the table.

“Funny how that’s exactly what you did. Well I hope you two are really happy together.” 

Wooyoung watches as Seonghwa stands, grabbing a bag from their closet and starting to shove his clothes in it. 

“No please- please don’t leave.” Wooyoung follows him, pulling on one of his arms in a weak attempt to get him to stop. 

“Why not!?” Seonghwa yells, “It’s not like you’ll be alone, you have a  _ soulmate _ .” He spits the word like it’s something ugly. 

Wooyoung can’t stop the steady stream of tears down his cheeks, “I know, but we can work it out, we can talk, I don’t know, just please don’t leave. Not like this.” 

Seonghwa zips the bag closed and leaves the room, headed towards the front door. Wooyoung scrambles after him, gripping his arm to stop him before he can reach it.

“Seonghwa please, I’m sorry. I- I love you.” 

“Clearly.” Seonghwa looks into his eyes, all emotion drained from them, leaving only ice before he rips his arm out of Wooyoung’s grip and walks out the door. 

Wooyoung’s knees buckle, and he falls to the floor, everything aching, his chest constricting with scalding pain, and it’s all his fault. He sobs until his throat feels raw, trembling when he finally forces his body to move, to get his feet underneath him. He goes to grab his phone, planning to call Yeosang, but instead he clicks on San’s name. 

“Hey Woo, what’s up?” San’s voice brings on a new wave of sobs, and Wooyoung can’t get any words out. 

“Wooyoung, baby just breathe, what’s wrong?” 

Wooyoung tries to do what he said, taking in a shaky breath. 

“C-can you come here? Please? I just, I need you.” 

“Okay, yeah of course, just tell me your address.” 

Wooyoung recites it to him, lets him know that the door is unlocked and to come in, and hangs up. He lays on the bed and curls up to wait until San gets there. He doesn’t know how everything got so messy, how he ended up hurting Seonghwa the most when that was the one thing he was trying to avoid. Everything hurts as he waits, his head a jumble of confusion, pain, guilt, and regret, but the one that makes him feel the most shame is hope, hope that even after everything, he’ll still have San. 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he’s startled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Woo, hey, are you okay?”

Wooyoung sits up to look at San, sees the concern written on his face. He grabs San’s hand and pulls it until he follows, laying next to him on the bed. Wooyoung moves forward to lay against him, shifts until his nose is tucked under San’s jaw, San’s hands wrapped around his waist. San’s presence seems to dull the ache, but it can’t stop the tears that are still falling steadily. Wooyoung wishes he could feel the same elation he felt when he saw San for the first time, wishes that his touch could erase his pain, but now everything’s layered with heartache that not even his soulmate can dissipate. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay.” San hushes. Wooyoung wishes that were true. 

“He’s gone, San. I’m never going to see him again, and it’s all my fault.” Wooyoung sobs.

San can only hold onto Wooyoung as he cries, as he lays in his arms and drowns under the waves of sorrow that come over him every time he remembers the way Seonghwa had looked at him before he walked out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Start a story with "How could you lie to me? Did you think you would get away with this?" 
> 
> Sorry this one isn't really holiday related, a majority if not the rest of them should be. 
> 
> But I still hope you liked it, I'm really happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you thought, thank you for reading!


	3. Yunho's Best Worst Gift

Years ago, I was a college student, solely focused on studying and earning my degree so I could move on to something better. I hadn’t really considered looking for a romantic relationship, not that I was opposed to the idea, I just kept to my small friend group and roommate, since I didn’t have the easiest time connecting to people. It had been that way since I was a freshman, and it stayed that way until the beginning of Junior year. 

I didn’t even know he was in my class until weeks into the semester. We both sat at our respective seats on opposite sides of the large lecture hall, keeping to ourselves, taking notes and then leaving, neither of us huge on socialization with the people around us. We could’ve gone the whole semester without meeting if it weren’t for our professor assigning us to the same group for a project. 

When I saw Mingi for the first time, I thought he was gorgeous; almost the same height as me, a radiant smile that was equal parts reflected in his eyes. He was more introverted inclined like me, but he still carried an air of confidence with him that I admired. While working on the project I figured out that he was funny and considerate, pulling more than his fair share of the project for his classmates, ensuring that everyone knew what they were doing and always asking if anyone needed help. 

The project only lasted a couple weeks, until just before Thanksgiving break, but that was enough time for me to fall head over heels for him. I would find any excuse to work with him, pretending to need his help with things I could’ve done with my eyes closed. Every second I spent with him was my new favorite moment, and I would’ve spent an eternity just sitting and talking to him.

On the last day before our project was due, I was with Mingi in the library finalizing the details of it. Meaning, I was sitting across from him at the table, our laptops in front of us, trying to keep my eyes on the screen instead of Mingi’s face. We’d been there for a couple hours, and I was hanging onto every minute, fully prepared to harbor my crush from across the room and never talk to Mingi again once our project was done, assuming that was what the other wanted.

“I’ll be really glad when this project is over, it’s been a pain in the ass.” Mingi said. My heart fell at the reminder that my excuse to talk to Mingi was almost over. 

“Yeah, seriously.” I forced out a laugh. I’d meant to leave it there, but my mouth moved on its own, “But I will miss sitting at that little coffee shop though.” 

I was worried that Mingi would be weirded out, or that I was coming off too clingy, but Mingi just laughed, his voice like honey.

“I know! That place had the  _ worst  _ coffee.” 

“It really did.” I smiled, until it fell when I realized we wouldn’t be going to the place we’d adopted as one of our getaways anymore, and I looked down at my laptop again. 

There was another stretch of silence, only the clicking of keys and the murmurs of other students filling the space.

“Yunho?” Mingi got my attention. 

When I looked up at him, I was startled to see the nervous look on his face, the way he avoided my eyes and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Yeah?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, hoping my confusion didn’t show through. 

“I was wondering if maybe- Uh, I wanted to know…” Mingi took a deep breath, while I felt like I couldn’t, “Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I’d never expected someone like Mingi to feel the same way I did. He’d looked so good sitting in front of me, his voice hesitant, like I wouldn’t jump at any opportunity to be with him, every part of my heart reaching out for him. I felt my palms sweat, both my stomach and my tongue tied in knots. 

“Uh yes, definitely!” I winced when it came out a little too enthusiastic, “I mean- um.. I would, I would love to.” I snapped my mouth closed, vowing to never say another word again to save my dignity. 

Despite me being a stuttering, sweaty mess, Mingi still looked ecstatic that I’d agreed. When he chuckled at my tongue tied and eager response I should’ve felt even more embarrassed, but I just found it beyond adorable. 

When we went on our first date, I was still a nervous wreck. Any calm I’d had around him when we were working on our project disappeared, and I was left worrying over what we’d talk about, the tension pulled tight through me the entire day before he picked me up. Soon after we got to the restaurant and we were waiting for our food, Mingi brought up the topic of music. It was a topic I loved, but we’d never directly shared our own tastes, most of our previous time together occupied by talking about the project. 

That night I was free to find out everything about the other, hold onto every single detail without a looming deadline signaling the end of our relationship. Mingi was telling me about a new album by one of his favorite artists, describing them and their sound. It was a rapper that I’d never heard of, but I never let my attention waver. 

When Mingi talked about the music he liked he lit up, his eyes sparkling with interest, passion clear in every one of his words. He told me about the different styles of rap, the artistry that goes into the lyrics, how the artists’ flows are different. He even mentioned that he’s written some of his own raps. 

That’s why when Mingi in turn asked me if I liked rap, the expectant look on his handsome face, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth; that I’d tried to listen to it before, but it always got on my nerves more than anything, and almost nothing about it was appealing to me. Instead of saying that, I told him that I loved rap, that it was one of my favorite genres. 

When he asked me which rappers I liked, I struggled to remember a single one that I’d heard of, managing to pull a few names out of thin air and shove them at Mingi. He smiled at each one I listed, easing the worry pooled in my chest that I’d made myself look like an idiot in front of him. 

I knew it was my nerves getting to me, I wasn’t normally one to lie to someone about myself to get them to like me, but I was so enamored by Mingi, my head turned upside down with the effort to keep myself calm and seem interesting, that I couldn’t stop myself. I wondered if the white lie would come back around to bite me in the ass, but I couldn’t regret it when my answer made Mingi’s face brighten even further at the supposed shared interest. 

We moved on to other topics, and as the night went on I grew more relaxed, more sure of myself rather than straining to come up with something to say that I thought Mingi would want to hear. From then on I was able to be genuine, and share real aspects of myself like he did. 

I’d forgotten all about my dishonesty until Christmas rolled around, and we were still dating, had been for a few weeks. I tore myself apart trying to think of the perfect gift for Mingi, and I eventually settled on something I was sure he would like. After spending Christmas morning with our families, we got together to exchange our own gifts. I was relieved that Mingi seemed to love what I got him, and I was excited to open my present from him.

I opened the wrapping to see that he got me the rap album he’d talked about on our first date, as well as another rap album that had come out recently. I immediately knew that no matter how hard I tried, the albums would be used for nothing more than collecting dust in my closet, the music on them the furthest thing from my taste, making it the worst gift I’d ever received. 

However, while Mingi watched me unwrap the present, he had a wide grin on his face, his eyes alight with excitement and hope that I would like it. I couldn’t possibly douse that in disappointment, so I told him that I loved it again, hugged him and kissed his toothy smile. It wasn’t a complete lie, I did love that he tried to get me something he thought I really liked, loved how delighted he was to give it to me. That’s what made it the best gift I’d ever received. 

For years after that, every Christmas, Mingi got me something relating to rap music, since he thought it was my favorite gift to receive, and he thought I could just never spare the money to buy the albums for myself the rest of the year. 

Three years after our first Chrismtas as a couple, we were moved in together, and it was the night after Christmas. I had the newest rap albums with the collection on my shelf, and we were laying in bed together, the sky a sparkling royal blue as I stared up at it. I was cuddled up to Mingi, my head on his bare chest, our clothes scattered on the floor from where we’d ripped them off of each other earlier in the night. 

Mingi was absentmindedly tracing lines over my back with his finger, both of us in a pleasant haze, on the edge of consciousness. The twinkling lights that I wouldn’t find the motivation to take down until January sparked memories of when Mingi and I first started dating, and the only time I’d been surprised to receive rap albums from him for my Christmas gift. 

“Hey Mingi?” I was speaking without meaning to, the fog of impending sleep removing my filter, “I have to tell you something.” 

Mingi hummed as a response, his eyes closed and his face lax. 

“I don’t like rap music.” I blurted, and then held my breath, waiting for Mingi’s reaction. 

Mingi’s eyes opened to look at me, but instead of confusion, surprise, or even anger appearing on his face like I’d expected, he broke out into laughter, his chest rising and falling quickly, making me sit up and look down at him.

“What!?” I frowned, the tips of my ears heating up. 

Mingi took another minute to compose himself before his laughter finally died down, leaving only a wide smile on his face. I frowned deeper, wondering what could possibly be funny about me finally revealing something I’d lied about and been keeping from him, refusing to admit that I was pouting. 

Mingi put his hands on my cheeks, his brown eyes still holding amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking cute.” He pulled me down to kiss the tip of my nose, making me scrunch my face lightly. Mingi all but cooed. 

“Yunho, baby, I already know.” Mingi said softly, affection in his statement.

I blinked a few times, the words rearranging themselves in my head until I understood what he was saying. 

“WHAT!?” I hit his chest playfully in mock anger, making him break out in another fit of laughter. 

“I could tell from the beginning that you were lying, but you were so adorable, and I knew you were trying really hard to be interested in it. Plus I was so nervous, there’s no way I would’ve called you out on it.” 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “So you knew this whole time, and you’ve still given me rap albums every Christmas?!” 

“Well at first I didn’t know what else to get you, and I thought if you didn’t listen to them, at least they would remind you of me. After that I kinda just thought it was cute when I gave them to you.” Mingi shrugged. “But I’ll stop giving them to you now.” 

I wanted to get on his case some more, but I looked at the shelf on our wall holding the albums, thought of the day before when he’d given me yet another one, and wondered just when I’d started looking forward to the predictable gift from my boyfriend.

“Actually, I don’t really think I want anything else for Christmas.” 

This time Mingi did look surprised, “Oh really? Why?” 

I took a second to think it over, “I guess it’s kinda just our thing now. I think it’s cute, and at this point it wouldn’t really feel like Christmas without a new rap album from you.” 

Mingi smiled at my answer, and my heart still flipped at the sight, even after seeing it for years. Mingi pulled me down into a kiss, slow and sweet, before we laid down again.

I found myself looking forward to next Christmas, and being grateful for the best worst gift I’d ever received. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a memoir about the best or worst gift you’ve received”
> 
> This was the first first person perspective story I've written, and I also don't usually write in past tense, so I hope it was good! I honestly love Yungi with all my heart.
> 
> Let me know what you thought, and thank you for reading!


	4. Snowy Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death
> 
> This chapter talks about death, please read safely!

Wooyoung wakes up cold, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and opening his eyes. The empty space on the bed makes him miss San’s warmth, wishing his boyfriend hadn’t had to go to work so they could spend the frigid morning tangled up together. He pulls himself out of the bed, dragging the comforter along to wrap around his shoulders.

He shuffles to the kitchen, the windows showing snow trickling down from the sky, and as much as he likes the cold weather, he really should turn up the thermostat, a shiver running through him. He makes himself a cup of coffee, humming a Christmas song without realizing it. 

He can hear San’s voice in his head giving him shit for how much creamer he puts in his coffee, and he chuckles to himself. As he curls up on the couch around the cup of warmth in his hands, he’s grateful that his class was cancelled today, feeling less than enthusiastic about trudging through the snow. 

He puts off doing his homework as he goes through the morning, the temperature and snow outside steadily falling. It’s nearly lunchtime when his phone starts buzzing, and he feels lighter, even warmer when he sees San’s contact on the screen. 

“Hey baby.” Wooyoung smiles.

“Hey, whatcha been up to?” San’s voice makes affection fill his chest.

“Nothing really, procrastinating and being cold.” 

San chuckles, “Well since it sounds like you’re not too busy, I was wondering if you wanted to meet me somewhere for lunch today?”

When San asks, Wooyoung takes everything back that he’d thought about not wanting to go outside today. The promise of seeing San is more than enough to get him out of his blanket cocoon. 

“I’d love to!” 

San sounds as excited as Wooyoung feels when he agrees, and Wooyoung’s heart swells that it’s like nothing has changed since they started dating years ago, both of them just as enamored with the other. 

They agree on a small cafe halfway between San’s work and their small house. In any other circumstance Wooyoung would complain about having to walk through the snow, but for San he laces up his boots with a smile on his face. 

He dons more layers than is necessary before he walks out the door, locking it and steeling himself for the Winter weather. 

Walking down the concrete path away from the house, he rubs his hands together to ward off the cold before stuffing them in his pockets. He passes their mailbox, his thoughts occupied with San and going over the checklist of homework he needs to get done. 

His eyes are on his feet, watching each step so he doesn’t slip on ice or snow, and he lets out a yelp when he’s stopped in his tracks, running into something solid in front of him. 

Dull pain from the impact throbs through his head, and he looks up expecting to see another person that was walking by. Instead, there’s nothing in front of him, no objects or people that he could’ve ran into. He tilts his head and raises his hand, tentatively reaching forward. 

He thinks it must’ve been a weird fluke thing, and he can just continue on with his day and meet San for lunch, but his hand still shakes as he lifts it. His fingers touch something smooth where he sees nothing there, and he jerks back, his heart hammering in his chest. 

He brings up his other hand to lay them both flat against the invisible surface, pressing against it and feeling no give. He runs his hands in every direction to find an edge, but he feels no end to the sturdy wall. 

He tries to keep his breathing slow as he starts waking, one of his hands staying in contact with what he would say feels like glass, if that weren’t completely impossible. Once he walks in a circle around his house, his hand trailing along the surface the entire time and finding no break in it, he struggles to keep his composure. 

Back where he started in front of their walkway, he does the only thing he can think to do: he rams his shoulder into the wall. Nothing happens, but he still does it again and again, his desperation rising as he beats against it with all of his strength, until his body aches and his mind is racing with confusion and fear. 

When he reaches to grab his phone, it dawns on him that his hands aren’t numb or shaking with chills. They’re not even cold. He stills, looking around him, feeling the temperature of the air, or rather the lack of it, even though his skin is chilled to the touch. The air feels stale around him, temperate and stagnant, everything silent. 

There’s no snow falling anymore, and Wooyoung looks down at his feet, taking a few experimental steps and reeling when it doesn’t crunch under his feet. He leans down, grabbing a clump and holding it in his hand. It doesn’t feel cold, the texture nothing like snow, and it doesn’t melt no matter how long he holds it. He lets the fake feeling snow fall back to the ground, his head spinning as nothing around him makes any sense, nothing seems real. 

He doubles over when a crushing pain erupts in his chest, stealing his breath and making him cry out as a deafening crash explodes in his head. The pain spreads to the rest of his body, every bone aching, every muscle on fire, and he falls to the ground, his constricted throat letting out strained sobs as agony overtakes him. 

Moving his arm makes the pain spike, a searing torture that spots his vision, but he forces himself to reach for his phone, pulling it out and clicking on San’s name. Every ring that sounds while he waits for San to answer intensifies the ringing in his ears, his head muddy as the blackness creeps further along the edges of his mind. 

“Hey baby, are you almost here?” San’s voice, sweet and light, makes tears fall from Wooyoung’s eyes, burning against his icy skin. His breathing is shallow, every one tormenting his chest. 

“San, I- please help, it hurts.” Wooyoung hisses through clenched teeth. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” San’s voice is consumed by concern. 

“I don’t… I don’t know, I f-feel so cold, Sannie…” Wooyoung can’t get his voice above a whisper, staring at the colorless sky above him.

“Fuck, just don’t move, okay baby? I’ll c-” 

The line falls dead, but Wooyoung can’t raise his hand to check the screen. His limbs feel too heavy, the cold spread through his veins. He can’t tell if his eyes are open or not anymore, black blanketing everything around him. 

He hears his phone crackle where it’s still held near his ear in his limp grasp.

“Wooyoung?” The voice that comes through the phone sounds like his own. “Do you know where you are?” 

“I d-don’t know, w-who are you?” Wooyoung gulps, the feeling like sand, “Where’s S-San?” 

“I am you, Wooyoung. San was on his way, but he didn’t get there in time.” The other Wooyoung says. Wooyoung can’t make his throat cooperate enough to ask what he means. “You were dead when he found you.” 

Shock pierces his numb body, and he wishes he could make it move. He needs to get up, needs to go have lunch with San, hold him in his arms and tell him he loves him. Why can’t he move, why does everything  _ hurt?  _

“You were hit by a car that spun out of control on the snow while walking to have lunch with San. You died while you were on the phone with him.” 

Wooyoung tries to open his eyes, tries to sit up because there’s no way he could be dead. He barely twitches. Everything sounds so far away now, every feeling drifting from him; the pain, even the cold.

“I’m sorry.” The other Wooyoung tells him. 

His answer is lost to the floating feeling, swallowed by the darkness that takes away the pain.

  
  
  


Wooyoung wakes up cold, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and opening his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a story about a character who finds out they live inside a snow globe”
> 
> This ended up darker than I meant for it to, but I actually really like how it turned out, lol
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, thank you for reading!


	5. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a little different than what's normally posted on here, but it's the prompt, and I'm excited to see what you guys think! Enjoy!

They say Yeosang is like ice, 

but is he? 

Is he frozen, a statue hardened against the wind,

the surface like stone that chills to the touch? 

Ice is cold, hard, unfeeling and unforgiving,

warmth retreating from it like waves that shy away from the sand.

Ice is a thinly veiled shell to hide the churning depths below.

But ice cracks, it breaks apart and melts in the glow of the sun,

it can shatter under enough pressure. 

Ice rarely sustains life, having to be coated in soft warmth 

the way he wants to be,

until the ice gives way to heat.

His feelings are often buried, pressed between the ice and snow,

but they bubble beneath the surface, bright and warm

like the clouds that part when the storm has passed.

Ice is strong, powerful, dangerous, and crushing,

but ice can be beautiful, molded by a sculptor that can harness the cold.

He decides that he’ll have to be his own sculptor, 

and carve himself into something worth chipping away at. 

So that the next time they say Yeosang is like ice, 

in the same way that a piece of artwork houses

a thousand stories,

an infinity of emotions 

and endless beauty,

he’ll know that he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a poem that uses the word ice”
> 
> I haven't written very much poetry before, but I really love it.  
> Let me know your thoughts, thank you for reading!


	6. Freshly Fallen Snow

For days, San’s pack has been traveling farther north than he’s ever gone, the temperature dropping steadily as they trudge through the endless forest, following the tracks of their source of food. He mainly keeps close to his parents in the unfamiliar environment, picturing their large tracks guiding his steps if the dirt weren’t frozen solid. 

He’s focused on putting one paw in front of the other, his mind wandering to when their next meal will be as his stomach growls demandingly, when he’s jolted to the side, rolling over and leaping to his feet again. He faces his attacker, eyes zeroing in on Yunho, baring his teeth at him in what he hopes is intimidation. It doesn’t seem to work; Yunho lunging at him with claws swiping and jaw snapping, leaving little time for San to react. Yunho’s body collides with his own with the fineness of an inexperienced hunter, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a fit of fur and snarls. 

“ _ San. _ ” He’d just managed to get his jaw clamped down around the thick skin of Yunho’s neck when his father’s voice sounds in his head, firm and warning.

San looks up to see that the rest of his pack has moved ahead while he and Yunho were occupied trying to get the upper hand on the other. 

“Sorry, coming.” He answers as he lets his mouth fall slack. Yunho stands and shakes himself off, both of their ears laid flat in obedience.

San licks over Yunho’s fur in truce, and Yunho nudges his head against San’s in response, letting it rub against San’s neck before they scramble to catch up to their pack. San warms despite the setting sun and creeping cold, appreciation for his best friend settling in him. His mood threatens to fall when he finds himself wishing he could talk to him. 

His parents had taught him from a young age that until he turns 18 years old, he won’t be able to communicate with anyone other than them while he’s a wolf. They’d explained how time works for humans, comparing it to the changing of the seasons and passing of days, how they connect to weeks, months, and years. They’d also described how when he turns 18, he’ll be able to change into a human for the first time. After that he’ll be able to make a connection with wolves other than his parents, able to hear them in his head and him in theirs. 

As his pack finds a safe place to sleep for the night, the darkness fully descended, he lays curled up by his parents’ sides, their comforting scents surrounding him, and he wonders what he’ll look like as a human. He’s still only a pup, more years ahead of him to learn how to survive as a grown wolf, hunting and providing for his pack, but he can’t help but try to picture it. 

He hasn’t seen his parents as humans yet, or most of his pack, a majority of them choosing to stay as wolves more often than not. He doesn’t have a lot of experience around humans, only having caught sight of wandering hikers or hunters from a distance. He finds it hard to associate himself with partially being one in the future, but he’s always been fascinated by them. 

He wonders what color his eyes will be, if he’ll be tall or short, what features his snout will translate to on smooth skin, if his hair will be the same dark color as his fur. His drooping eyes shift over to where Yunho’s laying with his own parents, already seeming fast asleep. He drifts off wondering what Yunho will look like as a human, picturing the two of them able to talk to each other and laugh freely, standing on two legs, running and playing through the green forest.

His thoughts of being human scatter throughout the next few weeks, as his pack walks far enough to have a steady supply of food and is able to settle in a secure area, a large cave housing all of them every night. His days are filled with training, with learning from his parents and other wolves how to be a part of the pack. Any chance he gets he spends his time playing with Yunho, rolling around the chilled ground and mock-fighting until they’re both panting, San’s muscles loose and tired with use.

He wakes up one morning, shuffling closer to burrow into his mom’s warm gray fur. When the other wolves start rousing as well, he stretches with a yawn. He blinks against the light streaming in through the opening of the cave, tilting his head when he realizes that it’s brighter than it should be. He walks towards the forest, his ears perked, alert as he sees small white balls falling from the sky. The trees are dusted with it, the dirt and grass hidden under a thick layer of the white substance.

He approaches the edge of the cave, his head held high as he sniffs the air in curiosity, nothing smelling out of the ordinary. Everything is quiet around him, the usual sounds of the forest dulled. He hears his mom’s light laughter in his head, and he turns to see her and his dad watching him with an air of amusement around them. 

“What is it?” He asks both of them, gesturing to the falling white outside. 

“It’s snow, honey.” His mom offers, walking up to join him at the edge of the cave, “You can play in it if you want.” She nudges him with her nose.

He takes a hesitant step outside, and immediately picks his paw back up when the snow is cold against it. It leaves an imprint of his paw, and he takes another few steps into the frigid air. He looks up, watching the flakes swirl around him and land on his fur before he looks back down and swipes at the soft powder. He lowers his head to sniff it, still smelling nothing, and licks it tentatively, finding it tasteless as it sticks to his tongue and melts. 

He feels his excitement grow, and he bounds in circles, the snow rising in flurries around him. His attention is drawn back to the cave, where Yunho’s watching him, his head tilted. San faces him, challenging him to come out with a playful growl. Yunho returns it, running out into the snow to meet San. 

San takes off with Yunho tight on his heels, kicking up snow as they run. San tries to dig his claws into the ground for traction, but the snow is too thick, and his steps slip, making him fall to the ground with a thud. He stands and shakes off, Yunho looking at him with laughter in his eyes. He pounces, tackling his friend before he can bolt. 

They spend the morning in the snow, wrestling and nipping at each other, rolling and tumbling through it. San loves the forest sprinkled in white, the calm as they run through the trees, sliding through the layers of snow. They play until their legs wobble, San’s heart racing, and their fur is damp, constantly covered by new flakes. 

He hears his dad’s voice in his head telling him to come back inside, and he obeys, Yunho following him out of the falling snow and into the dry cave. He sticks by Yunho’s side, licking the snow off of his neck and head, his friend allowing him in a gesture of trust. 

The snowfall clears later in the day, but stays frozen to the ground as they hunt. San’s newly learned skills in helping catch their meals have to be tweaked as the snow changes the dynamics of hunting, but his dad assures him that he’s picking it up quickly, making him hold his head high in pride. 

That night as he lays in the cave, he thinks that he doesn’t want to go back south, where the snow doesn’t fall and coat the forest in a blanket of white. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a story from the point of view of an animal seeing snow for the first time”
> 
> Sorry for the late update, I got busy yesterday, but I'll post two today (:
> 
> I actually am really liking this idea, and I might continue it once Christmas is over. Let me know what you thought of this and if you'd want more, and thank you for reading!
> 
> (Also congrats to Ateez for two mama wins!! They absolutely KILLED the stage)


	7. A Year Ago

Emotions are always running high this time of year, the holidays making people nostalgic and sentimental. Jongho’s seen multiple articles and posts about it, one popular idea in particular being to write a letter to yourself at this time last year. When he saw it on his social media, he just rolled his eyes and scrolled on. The whole profound introspection stuff was never his thing, he always focused on the now, his eyes on the future.

However, as he went about his days after seeing the posts, he couldn’t help but think about some of the things he’d include if he did write a letter to himself a year ago. 

He thinks that he’d tell himself to be more confident in his skills and abilities, to know that they’re enough. He’d say that over the past year he’s become more self assured, learned that he  _ is  _ talented, and while continuing to improve himself is a good thing, he shouldn’t go overboard and potentially risk harming himself, either physically or mentally, like he came close to doing on more than one occasion. 

He feels ridiculous as he thinks about his past in the context of talking to himself, but he figures at least he’s not writing it down, so he’ll let it slide. 

He would say to himself that he should be proud of how far he comes, what he accomplishes in the coming year, and he should be excited for the future. He would say that there are going to be rough patches, times when he wonders if everything is worth it, but that if he sticks with his members and trusts himself, he’ll make it through them. He would tell himself not to be afraid to lean on his group, to accept their help and affection more, because in the coming months he learns that it means everything. 

If he wrote a letter to himself a year ago, he’s sure that he would also gush over him and Yeosang. A year before, he was silently crushing on his fellow member, under the impression that his feelings for the other would never see the light of day. He would tell his younger self to keep an open mind, to not rush anything, but to not dismiss the possibility altogether either. 

He wishes he could tell his nervous, shy self whose heart warmed at Yeosang’s smile and whose brain turned to mush when he laughed, that he’s now dating him. He would talk about how they grew closer the past year, both of them seeming to gravitate towards the other. He came up with countless excuses to spend time with Yeosang, to get his help with something or just to talk to him. 

He would tell himself about one of his favorite memories. He’d been flirting with Yeosang for weeks, afraid of how he’d react at first, but the blonde haired gave as good as he got, giving Jongho hope for the two of them. It was a night where Yeosang and Jongho were the only two left at the dorms, the other members having left for a night out. Jongho was too exhausted from a day of practice followed by working out, and Yeosang had simply declined the offer. 

Jongho had just showered and collapsed on the couch when Yeosang came out of his own room, sitting down next to him. They ended up ordering food and eating it while watching a random movie, making fun of its plot holes and cheesy dialogue more than anything. When they were finished eating, Jongho’s attention was drawn towards the boy next to him instead of the screen.

As the movie played, Yeosang threw his legs over Jongho’s lap, the contact making butterflies erupt in his stomach. Yeosang then laid his head on Jongho’s shoulder, and he contained his frenzied feelings as he rested his head against Yeosang’s in return. Jongho smiled, finding it hard to focus on the movie with Yeosang so close to him. 

“Hey Jongho?” Yeosang eventually pulled his head back to look at Jongho as he spoke over the movie.

“Yeah?” Jongho lowered the volume and turned towards his friend. 

Yeosang avoided his gaze, making his curiosity spike. 

“Do you think maybe… could I- um, can I kiss you?” Yeosang’s words were almost too quiet for him to hear. “I’ve just, I’ve been wanting to…” He trailed off.

Jongho thinks that even if he were to try, he would never be able to describe in words how he felt at that moment. The closest he could come is that his heart jumped to his throat, surprise, nerves, and elation filling every inch of his body. The way a blush dusted Yeosang’s cheeks made his chest feel full to bursting, adoration humming in his veins. 

He nodded ever so slightly, in awe, but it was enough for Yeosang to start moving. He didn’t move a muscle as Yeosang closed the gap between them at his own pace. His breath ghosted against Jongho’s lips, making him shiver, his eyes slipping closed. The first touch of Yeosang’s lips against his was like magic, soft, sweet, and perfect; everything that Yeosang was. 

He brought his hand up to cup Yeosang’s cheek, Yeosang shifting closer until they were pressed together. Jongho deepened the kiss, Yeosang following his lead as they explored each other’s mouths. They kissed until Jongho had to pull back to breathe, and he leaned his forehead against Yeosang’s, wide smiles on both of their faces. Jongho felt like he was flying, with Yeosang in his arms, finally able to kiss him and have him in the ways he’d only dreamed about for months. 

That night, Yeosang confessed that he’d had feelings for Jongho, who, after recovering from his immense shock and disbelief, told him that he reciprocated his feelings. They started dating, and Jongho would tell himself that next year is the best of his life, Yeosang completing him in every way. 

If he wrote a letter to himself a year ago, he would say to not be afraid of his feelings, and to be patient, that it ends up being better than he could ever imagine. He would tell himself that every cheesy Christmas song about love, and not needing any presents because you have your significant other, he relates to, and finds himself feeling the same way. 

While he was happy a year ago, he truly finds himself and grows in the coming months. He would tell himself that instead of using his energy worrying, he should focus on his career, and his members. He feels grateful as he reflects on the past year and what’s changed, and he thinks that maybe the whole cheesy introspection thing isn’t so bad after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a letter to yourself at this time last year”
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Home This Christmas

_ Looking out the window _

_ Waiting for your headlights _

_ To pull up in the driveway _

_ It's really coming down tonight _

_ You're scared that I won't make it through the storm _

_ You should be here with me, safe and warm _

  
  


Wooyoung sighs, his heart falling as he watches the darkness outside, endless flakes of falling snow obscuring everything around the small house. It hasn’t let up for hours, the snow only worsening as he’s sat near the front door, staring out the large window that leaves the driveway in view. There aren’t many cars that drive by, but every one that isn’t San makes his stomach drop even further. 

The roads, inevitably covered with slippery snow and ice, make Wooyoung’s throat feel tight with worry. Visions of San losing control of his car and sliding off the road to a lonely, cold demise make his heart rate spike and his hands clammy as fear and concern tangle in his head and chest. He holds onto hope that he’ll see their shared car’s headlights pull up, but that hope dwindles away to be replaced by distress and guilt with the passing minutes that bleed into hours. 

San should’ve never left, and it’s Wooyoung’s fault that he did. He should still be at home, under warm blankets watching a movie with him instead of trying to navigate through the perilous snow storm raging outside just to get back to him. 

That morning they’d woken up in each other’s arms, happy and comfortable. They were looking forward to spending the day together, having the most stereotypical Christmas Eve before they see their friends and family the next day for Christmas. The air outside was chilled through, but they were cozy inside, lighting a fire in the fireplace before they made breakfast together in their pajamas. It couldn’t have been more perfect. 

While they ate their food they talked lightly, enjoying the peaceful morning. Wooyoung started talking about what he wanted to do tomorrow for Christmas, each word filling him with excitement as he planned to spend it with San and his family, bring San back home with him, and for the two of them to see their friends later on in the day. He felt his excitement grow as he talked, until he noticed that San was avoiding his eyes, instead looking down at the table. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Wooyoung put his fork down on his empty plate. 

San sighed, and looked at him, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

“Okay, what is it?” Wooyoung’s face fell with unease at San’s hesitation.

“I know how much you were looking forward to everything tomorrow, but this morning I found out that I have to work all day.” San told him in one breath, his tone apologetic as he eyed Wooyoung to gauge his reaction. 

In the years that they’ve been dating, they always spent Christmas together, it was one of Wooyoung’s favorite days of the year, as cliche as it is. The festivities, the lights, the feeling of family and togetherness bringing him happiness that only Christmas can. As he thinks about their shared Christmases in past years, he realizes that it would never hold the same magic without San by his side.

Wooyoung blinked a few times before he answered, just staring at his boyfriend, “There’s no way you can get out of it?” 

“I wish I could, but I guess they really need me,” San’s eyes fell away again, “I’m really sorry Woo.” 

Wooyoung tried to tell himself to be understanding, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. If it were any other day of the year he would be more than happy to be accommodating, but San’s news makes his excitement for Christmas with him melt like snow between his fingers, leaving only cold disappointment. 

“I just don’t understand why they can tell you to come in on such short notice. Why isn’t there anything you can do?” Wooyoung tried to keep his voice even and have a civil conversation with San, but anger and hurt still tinged his words. 

“I know, I know, it sucks. But we can still have a good day today, right?” San tried. 

“No, San, it more than sucks. You know how much spending Christmas with you means to me,” He paused, “and what about our families? Our friends? It’s all cancelled, just like that?” 

San ran a hand over his face, “I don’t know why you’re getting so mad at me, it’s not like I’m doing this on purpose, I don’t have a choice!” His rising defenses and raised voice made Wooyoung’s face harden.

“I just didn’t know that having this one day with you a year was too much to ask.” Wooyoung bit back. 

“It’s not- look, you know I would stay with you if I could, I love spending Christmas with you too, but I just can’t this year.” 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Wooyoung asked, his tone full of accusation. 

“God, you’re being so frustrating!” San ran his fingers through his hair, “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not my fault!?” 

“Honestly, I don’t give a shit about your excuses!” Wooyoung barked, “All that matters is that you don’t give a shit about how it makes me feel enough to make sure you’re here with me on Christmas.”

San’s eyes went cold, “You don’t honestly think that.” His tone was tight, words clipped. 

“I don’t know what else to think!” Wooyoung screamed. 

San stood up, fury radiating off of him, “I’m not going to sit here and let you accuse me of not caring about your feelings over something that’s not my fault.” He shoved his chair aside and started walking away from the table. 

“Where are you going?” Wooyoung called after him. 

“Out.” 

“Fine, maybe you should leave, since you obviously don’t want to be here!” Wooyoung yelled, and the front door slammed shut.

  
  


_ Pacing down the hallway _

_ Trying to fight the urge to call _

_ I could almost hear a pin drop _

_ 'Cept for the clock on the wall _

_ And I'm scared you won't make it through the storm _

_ You should be here with me, safe and warm _

  
  


The house was silent around him, the quiet deafening in the fallout of their screaming match. Wooyoung held onto his anger as long as he could, letting it consume him as he tried to ignore San’s absence. He reasoned that he was validated in being upset with San, that losing the moments with his boyfriend that are most special to him and only come once a year was reason enough to be angry. 

The only sound in the house was the clock on the wall that had been a housewarming gift from San’s mom ticking mechanically, the ceaseless noise making him restless. He walked down the hall before returning to the front door, spinning on his heel to repeat the process. He told himself not to call San, to grip his resolve and let the air between them settle, determined to hold onto the notion that San was in the wrong. 

He thought of how much he loved Christmas in past years, remembered the bright dimpled smile on San’s face throughout the day, the sweet hugs and stolen kisses. He’d meant to reaffirm why those moments meant so much to him to warrant his reaction, but instead it makes San’s words sink in like icy water drenching him. San truly does love spending Christmas with him just as much, he would never deprive either of them of that if he had a choice. 

He didn’t know what got into him, how he could blame San for something that’s out of his control, how he could accuse him of dismissing his feelings when he knew that his boyfriend never truly would. Shame and regret washed over him like a tidal wave, his mouth set in a frown as he wanted to take back everything he said. In that moment he hated himself for ever making San look at him with that much hurt in his eyes, for driving him to leave on Christmas Eve. 

He had to fix it, was suddenly overcome with the need to apologize, to get San to come back home to him. The snow had picked up soon after San left, adding worry to the sadness and guilt that already weighed down on him. He had to try, he needed San to be with him, safe and warm. 

  
  


_ I'm praying that you make it home tonight _

_ So we can lay down by the fireside _

_ You and I till Christmas morning _

_ There's nothing else that I want this year _

_ More than just to have you here, whoa _

_ I'll be waiting _

  
  


Wooyoung grabbed his phone, clicking on San’s name and holding it up to his ear, hope and doubt swirling uncomfortably in his chest with every ring. 

“Hi Woo.” Wooyoung let out a sigh of relief when San answered, ignoring the sting when San’s tone was cold and disinterested. He deserved it. 

“Are you okay baby? The snow got really bad. Where are you?” Wooyoung couldn’t stop himself from rambling as concern made his questions tumble out. 

“I’m fine. I’m at Yunho’s.” San informed him, still emotionless. 

“Oh, okay that’s good.” Wooyoung was glad he was okay and with his friend. “Listen San, I-”

“No, it’s fine, really. Just save it, you already said everything, don’t worry. I know how you feel.” San cut him off, his words filled with venom. 

Wooyoung pressed on, determined and unfazed, although his heart clenched painfully with how hurt his boyfriend clearly was because of him, “Please just let me apologize. Please Sannie.”

San sighed on the other end of the line, but didn't object again, leaving room for him to continue. 

“I know you must be really pissed at me, and honestly I deserve it. What I said to you was awful, and I’m really really sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, it’s not your fault you have to work and I should’ve been more understanding. I’m so sorry.” He finished his apology, hoping that his sincerity came across over the phone.

There was a pause, and Wooyoung held his breath, hoping with everything in him that San wouldn’t just hang up the phone.

When San still didn’t answer, but didn’t disconnect the call either, Wooyoung let out his breath and continued, “I know you love me and care about my feelings, you show me every day that you do, and that means so much to me. I should’ve done the same for you, but I was being unreasonable, and that was really unfair to you. I’m sorry.”

The next pause was shorter before San spoke, “Thank you for apologizing. That means a lot.” He sounded more like himself, warmer and more genuine, making Wooyoung’s lips turn up in a small smile. 

“I really mean it.” Wooyoung assured the other, “I love spending Christmas with you, but I understand that you have to work, and we’ll make the most of every moment we do have together.” 

“Of course.” San assured him, “I really wish I could hug you right now.” 

“Me too.” Wooyoung whispered, reminded that he’s the reason they’re apart. 

“I’ll leave Yunho’s now. I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get there in the snow, but I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

“Wait, you’re going to drive home now?” Wooyoung glanced outside at the storm swirling through the air and burying everything. “It’s too dangerous.”

“It’ll be okay, I just, I really want to be with you tonight.” San said, making Wooyoung melt. 

“Are you sure?” He checked, hearing San’s affirmation. “Okay, well please drive really really safe, don’t get distracted and don’t try to hurry.” He instructed. 

“Yes mom.” San teased. 

“Hey, I just want you to be safe!” Wooyoung whined, laughing. “When you get home, I want to lay with you in front of the fire. We can maybe watch a movie or something, and cuddle all night.” Wooyoung ached to have San in his arms again, his comforting presence and his love.

“That sounds perfect baby.” Wooyoung heard San’s smile. 

“And if you get here in time for Christmas, then it doesn’t even matter if you got me anything, because you’re the best gift I could ever get.” Wooyoung added, his smile growing. 

“Ah, so cheesy.” San said, and Wooyoung could imagine the blush dusting his cheeks. God, he really wished he were there. 

They finally hung up the phone after Wooyoung reiterated how safe he should be and San agreed multiple times. Wooyoung was plunged back into the silence, and he got settled near the window as he started the lonely wait for San to get home. 

  
  


_ I'll be waiting under the mistletoe _

_ While you're driving here through the winter snow _

_ Baby think of me if it helps to get you home _

_ When the only gift that I really need _

_ Is to have your arms wrapped around me _

_ Baby think of me if it helps to get you home _

_ Home this Christmas _

  
  


Wooyoung does his best not to dwell on the tight knot in his chest as he waits, repeating to himself that San is okay, that he’ll be careful and that he’ll be home soon. He lets his mind instead wander to earlier in the month, when they’d decorated their house for Christmas. 

They’d been busy with work, making them put it off later than they normally would. Wooyoung was thoroughly looking forward to spending that time with his boyfriend when they both finally had a day off that they weren’t too exhausted to pull the boxes out of the attic and set the familiar decorations up. 

They worked on the tree first, the fake one that they used every year, putting it together and grabbing the lights and ornaments. Wooyoung put on Christmas music for the first time of the year, making him smile at the nostalgic songs. They worked through hanging up the decorations, talking and singing as they adorned the house in the Christmas spirit, their furniture and walls transforming into seasonal cheer, brightening everything with the colorful lights. 

Wooyoung had just finished putting the last ornaments on the tree when he turned around to see San looking at him with a glint in his eye. He saw him holding his hand above his head, a little fake mistletoe pinched between his fingers. He gestured for Wooyoung to come closer. Wooyoung smirked, sauntering towards his boyfriend until their chests were pressed together. 

San faked a surprised gasp, “What’s this?” He looked up at the mistletoe before looking back into Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Hm, I guess this means I have to kiss you now?” Wooyoung pouted.

“Rules are rules.” San shrugged with a sly smile, his arm wrapping around Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung brought his hands up to the back of San’s neck to dig into the short hair there. 

Wooyoung pulled him in, connecting their lips and humming in satisfaction. They moved together with practiced ease, Wooyoung filled with warmth as San pressed against him, his lips full and soft. Wooyoung deepened the kiss, his hands wandering over San as he lost himself to the feeling of his boyfriend’s mouth and touch. He could’ve kissed him endlessly, his heart full of love for the other as they stood in their living room surrounded by half unpacked boxes. 

They eventually pulled back, both smiling as they went back to their task. Wooyoung was fully satisfied when they put the last of the now empty boxes back into their attic. There was something about the twinkling tree and their old stockings that they’d bought together years ago that made him inexplicably content as they settled down on the couch for the night after a job well done. 

Wooyoung hopes that San can think back on the fond memory as he drives, giving him further incentive to make it home to him tonight. He sees the mistletoe hanging near the front door where they’ve been caught up in each other under it far too many times since. 

His eyes drift to the tree they set up together, and the various presents that are placed under it, gifts from different family members and friends that they’d been sent. While Wooyoung’s grateful for the presents and excited to find out what he’s been given, he can’t help but think that the only gift he truly needs is San home safe with him, happy like they’d been that morning, his strong arms wrapped around him. 

He leans his chin against his palm as he stares back at the darkness outside the window, desperately wishing that he’d never let San walk out the door. 

  
  


_ Looking out the window _

_ Waiting for your headlights _

_ To pull up in the driveway _

_ It's really coming down tonight _

  
  


Wooyoung thinks that it’s been too long. He’s convinced himself that it’s been far longer than it should take to drive home from Yunho’s house, even with the snow. It’s gotten late, the sky darkening completely while the clock keeps ticking down. He can’t keep the worst case scenarios from flashing through his head anymore. His hand itches to reach for his phone and call San again, but he resists, not wanting to add the distraction from what he’s sure is already treacherous driving for the other. 

His heart hurts with the emotions muddled in it, this isn’t how their Christmas Eve was supposed to go, and he no longer blames anyone but himself. He realizes that stray tears are falling down his cheeks, and all he wants is to have San here to brush them away. He has only the cold seeping in through the window and the silence of the empty house. Another car drives by, it’s headlights piercing through the darkness. He swallows roughly when the headlights turn into the driveway like he’d begun to think they never would.

He stands, attempting to make himself look like slightly less of the mess he’s sure he is. The second San steps inside Wooyoung is wrapping his arms tightly around his neck, San bringing his own around Wooyoung’s waist, surprised by his eager greeting but his hold firm nonetheless. Wooyoung buries his face in his boyfriend’s neck, inhales his comforting scent, calms himself with the feeling of hugging him and of being held by him.

“I was so worried about you.” Wooyoung mumbles into his skin, which is much too cool to the touch for his liking. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry. But it’s okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you.” San’s hands rub over his back as he soothes him.

Wooyoung presses impossibly closer to San. “I’m so sorry about everything.” 

San brings his hands up to Wooyoung’s face, pulling his head back to look at him, running his thumbs over his cheeks. “It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize, it’s over.” 

San’s eyes are sparkling as he looks into them, and his body buzzes with relief and happiness.

“I love you.” Wooyoung tells him, his voice soft. 

San smiles, and kisses him, slow and sweet, making him sigh in contentment.

San pulls back, “I love you too baby. Merry Christmas.” 

Wooyoung thinks that this Christmas will still be his favorite, even if the day looks different than what he’s used to, as long as he has San.

“Merry Christmas Sannie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Rewrite the lyrics to your favorite festive song or carol”
> 
> This story is based off of "Home This Christmas" by Justin Bieber. I know it's not exactly rewriting the lyrics, and the parts of the song are out of order, but I took a little creative liberty and did this instead. 
> 
> Hope you liked it, let me know!


	9. A Sci-Fi Christmas

Seonghwa checks the time on the screen, the hours having sped by without him realizing it while he worked. He lets out a sigh, his assignments piling up faster than he can complete them. He would normally stay and work straight through his lunch hour in an attempt to get caught up, but it’s Christmas day, and he promised Hongjoong he’d come home during his break. Logging out of the computer and shutting down the screens in front of him, Seonghwa grabs his coat and walks out of his office. 

He nods at the coworkers he passes before he steps into the elevator. He checks his phone as he waits, the thin screen light in his hand as he scrolls through posts about what acquaintances have gotten from their significant others for Christmas, flashy gifts and shiny new picturesque presents passing by. The couples are posed, too wide smiles spread across their faces. Seonghwa wonders how many of those smiles are genuine before the thought’s interrupted by the elevator door dinging open. 

He calls his car over on his phone, climbing in when it pulls up in front of him. He sets the AI to take him home and sits back for the drive, watching the bleak sky outside the tinted windows. Snow has started falling, and he sighs again. He hates the snow, it only serves to stick to his suit and make his shoes wet. 

He watches as he passes by other sleek black cars, all of the tires more than equipped to handle the slick roads, the AI more than capable of navigating them out of human hands. The car pulls onto his driveway, continuing into the garage before shutting off. He steps out, walking in the house and peeling his jacket off his shoulders. 

He glances at the Christmas decorations they have up at Hongjoong’s insistence, Seonghwa not caring much for the holiday. Their tree is slim and plastic, fake picture perfect ornaments adorning it. Both the real and fake trees that used to leave dirt and dust and pine needles littered over the floor, as well as glass ornaments that would fall and shatter, all stopped being used years ago. Besides the tree, there were virtual Christmas pictures and lights programmed into the walls, changeable with the press of a button on either his or Hongjoong’s phones. 

“Joong? I’m home!” Seonghwa calls as he settles down on their couch in front of the large screen embedded into the wall. 

He hears his boyfriend’s soft footsteps from their bedroom before the door slides open and Hongjoong joins him on the couch with a smile and a kiss on his lips. Seonghwa chuckles at Hongjoong’s bright clothes, the patterns eccentric and fabric rougher than the softness of the more neutral colored clothes that are the most popular.

“How was work, baby?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Busy, there’s some bugs with our new software that we have to deal with.” 

Hongjoong hums in understanding as Seonghwa grabs the tv remote and swipes up, the screen brightening in front of them. 

“What do you want for dinner tonight? I can have it delivered.” Hongjoong suggests, clicking open his phone to look through the options. 

“Actually, I’m going to have to work late tonight, I’m sorry.” Seonghwa tells him. 

“Oh, okay, that’s okay.” Hongjoong pockets his phone again. 

He curls against Seonghwa’s side as the older scrolls through the presents they’ve been sent from their friends and coworkers, a note of their well wishes attached to each virtual gift. Seonghwa can click on any one in the list, and walk over to the hatch in the wall, the object appearing inside for him to grab. As he scrolls he sees that they’ve been given one of the newest watches that came out, various popular brands of accessories for Hongjoong, a bottle of wine sent from Wooyoung and San. 

For each present he clicks on one of the pre-written thank you messages and sends it off to the giver of the gift. He realizes that he hasn’t seen Wooyoung or San face to face in months, either too busy with work, or substituting their get togethers with talking over a screen instead. He finds that he misses their company, and makes a mental note to text them later and catch up. 

“What do you want, Joong? You can have anything on me.” Seonghwa drapes his arm over Hongjoong’s shoulders.

He scrolls through the list of possible gifts for Hongjoong to pick from, the younger silent against his side. 

“Um, I think I’m okay, I don’t need anything.” Hongjoong’s voice is small, something sounding off that works its way under Seonghwa’s skin and makes his brow furrow.

“Are you sure? I can get you some flowers, they even smell and feel real, but they don’t die. What about a car? Or there’s that new phone that just came out, yours is getting a little old...” Seonghwa lists, unsure how to relieve the unease that’s settled in his gut. 

“I promise, I don’t need anything, but thank you.” Hongjoong assures him. 

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind..” Seonghwa offers with a slight frown. 

“I will. But I do have something I want to give to you.” Hongjoong says. 

“Okay.” Seonghwa goes to hand the remote to his boyfriend, but confusion takes the forefront in his mind when Hongjoong doesn’t take it, and stands instead, walking back in the direction of their bedroom. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Seonghwa calls, but Hongjoong’s already slipped through the door, light on his feet.

Seonghwa sits stunned, wondering what the smaller could possibly be up to. He doesn’t have to wait long before the door is sliding open again. His confusion turns to surprise and disbelief when Hongjoong is holding a box in his hands. He walks up to Seonghwa, sitting next to him on the couch with hesitation written on his face. 

He extends the object to Seonghwa, who can only stare at it like it’s going to bite him. Hongjoong nudges him with it, which spurs him to take it, holding the weight in his hands. It’s an honest to god box, made of cardboard, wrapped in smooth colorful paper. Seonghwa can’t even begin to think of the last time he heard of anyone giving an actual present to another person like this. The wrapping paper is bright, little trees printed all over it, and Seonghwa had all but forgotten what it was like; the anticipation to tear it open and reveal what’s inside. 

“I- I don’t understand?” Seonghwa looks from the gift in his hands to Hongjoong, who’s watching him expectantly. 

A blush tints Hongjoong’s cheeks, “I just thought I’d do something a little different this year, I know it’s weird…” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Seonghwa hurries to assure him, unable to stand Hongjoong’s dejected tone as he shies away from Seonghwa in embarrassment. 

Hongjoong keeps his eyes on him, urging him to continue. Seonghwa sends him one more look before he peels up part of the paper, the feeling almost foreign to him after so many years. He takes his time unwrapping it, unfolding the paper and removing it with care. He’s not sure why, the paper cheaper than most things that exist today, he just can’t bring himself to tear through what Hongjoong had taken the time to do for him. 

Once the paper is off, he’s left with a wide white box. With his curiosity growing, he lifts the lid off the box, peeling back the softer, thinner paper on the surface. He can’t hold in a small gasp when he sees what’s inside. While he’d been racking his brain considering which of the items on the long list available to them Hongjoong had considered worth wrapping in an actual box, he’d never once entertained any other possibilities.

Instead of any of the gifts that could be chosen on their screen, inside the box is a canvas, made of wood, that used to be hung on people’s walls. Seonghwa recognizes the scene on the canvas, assuming that Hongjoong must’ve printed it out, until he looks closer and notices little imperfections in the picture, and raised bumps in the colors on the canvas. He realizes that it’s paint. Real, wet, messy paint that they used to put on things with a paint brush. He didn’t know you could even buy paint anymore, it’s nearly unheard of.

The scene on the canvas is one that he would know anywhere. To anyone besides the two of them, it would look like a regular forest landscape, but to Seonghwa it’s the place he fell in love. When he was first dating Hongjoong, they were only driving through, but Seonghwa was captivated by the scenery, surprising the other by pulling the car over and climbing out. They ended up walking through the forest hand in hand, talking about anything and everything, even nothing at times, Seonghwa finding himself comfortable with Hongjoong regardless. 

The sun was shining over the trees, bathing them in golden light, a breeze tangling through the forest and ruffling Hongjoong’s hair. Seonghwa thought he looked breathtaking in that moment, his skin glowing and his smile so bright, he couldn’t help but lean over and kiss him. Hongjoong let out a surprised gasp, but recovered quickly and pulled Seonghwa closer. They’d frequented the forest after that day, finding it somewhere they could go to get away from everything and recharge in each other’s company. 

Seonghwa realizes that he can’t recall the last time they’ve been there. 

He looks at the painting again, studies it, it’s golden light resembling that first day they’d found the forest. The painting isn’t flawless, the trees slightly crooked and lines a little sloppy in places, but every mistake only serves to make Seonghwa’s heart swell further in his chest. 

Hongjoong could’ve taken a picture of the forest and printed it out for him, or even uploaded it to be displayed in hd on the wall, which Seonghwa still would’ve loved, but instead he went through the trouble of finding someone who’s still selling real paint, adding every stroke and color until the scene unfolded for Seonghwa, a small piece of their love forever engraved into the canvas, just for him. 

“Hongjoong, I don’t even know what to say.” 

“I know you probably think it’s dumb, I just-”

Hongjoong’s words are cut off by Seonghwa pulling him in for a crushing hug, the painting set safely aside on the couch. 

“It’s so beautiful baby, I love it so much, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” Tears are threatening to fall from Seonghwa’s eyes, warmth and love thrumming through his veins. 

“I’m so glad you like it, I was worried you wouldn’t.” Hongjoong murmurs, nuzzling closer to him.

Seonghwa holds onto him, and doesn’t ever want to let go. Hongjoong’s small frame fit so well against him makes him wonder why he doesn’t do this more often, why he doesn’t spend every night showering him in kisses and keeping him in his arms, holding him close every opportunity he has and telling him how much he loves him. Hongjoong means so much to him, and he’s been taking every moment with him for granted for far too long. 

  
“I guess you have to be getting back to work, huh?” Hongjoong pulls back. 

Seonghwa looks around the room, sees the Christmas decorations that make Hongjoong giddy every year, looks at the painting that Hongjoong gave him, and finally looks into Hongjoong’s brown eyes, wide and sparkling as they look back at him. He feels like he would crumble apart if he had to leave Hongjoong right now. 

“Hold on.” He tells Hongjoong, pulling out his phone. He sends off a couple messages and emails before he pockets it again. 

“Come on.” He stands, extending his hand to Hongjoong, who eyes it with confusion. 

“Uh, where are we going?” Hongjoong takes his hand slowly. 

“I want to give you something too.” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong doesn’t seem to understand any more than before, but he doesn’t question him again. 

Seonghwa grabs a coat for himself and one for Hongjoong, handing it to the younger. Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, but Seonghwa notices the excited smile on his face as they walk out the door. He types the address into the car’s GPS, making sure to keep it hidden from Hongjoong. 

While the car starts down the road to their destination, Seonghwa reaches over to grab Hongjoong’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He turns a Christmas radio station on low, surprising Hongjoong, and keeps his phone in his pocket for the duration of the drive, all of his attention on Hongjoong as they talk. 

Seonghwa sees the realization settle in Hongjoong’s eyes when he starts to recognize their surroundings. The look he gives Seonghwa, so sweet and delighted, makes him want to skip every day of work just to see that look again. They both climb out of the car at the edge of the familiar forest, and Seonghwa’s hand immediately finds Hongjoong’s again.

They start walking through the trees, neither in a hurry or with a destination in mind. The dirt is covered in snow, but Seonghwa’s too focused on Hongjoong next to him to mind. Snow is still falling softly over them, sprinkling Hongjoong’s hair and getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinks up at Seonghwa. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” Seonghwa tells him, thinking he deserves to hear it every day. The tips of Hongjoong’s ears redden to match his rosy nose. 

“Thank you.” Hongjoong smiles, their steps slow as they enjoy each other and the scenery, “This is the best Christmas I could’ve asked for.” 

“It’s all thanks to you. You kinda made me open my eyes about a few things today.” Seonghwa admits, “What did I ever do to deserve you?” 

Hongjoong giggles, and leans up to kiss Seonghwa’s cheek, his lips cool and chapped against his skin, but no less perfect. 

“I was thinking,” Seonghwa added, “what if we went and saw Woo and San today? It’s been way too long since we have.”

Hongjoong’s face lights up at the suggestion, “I think that’s an amazing idea.” 

Seonghwa grabs his phone, his other hand still in Hongjoong’s, and clicks on San’s name. 

“Hey Hwa, what’s up? Everything okay?” San answers. 

“Yeah, I just called to say Merry Christmas from Hongjoong and I.” Seonghwa smiles. 

“O-oh… uh, okay. Merry Christmas to you too then.. I guess.” San stutters, clearly caught off guard. The fact that his friend thought he’d only call him if something was wrong fills him with sadness.

“I actually wanted to ask if you and Woo are busy later today?” Seonghwa tries. 

“Um, no I don’t think so, we were just going to order some food and go to bed. Why?” San’s confusion seems to have deepened. 

“We were thinking we could maybe come over and hang out for a little while? Only if you want to of course.” 

There’s a moment of silence, Seonghwa waiting for San to think over what he’d suggested, knowing it’s become all but unconventional for them. 

“Hold on a sec.” San says, and Seonghwa hears rustling over the phone. He hears Wooyoung’s muffled voice as San talks to him. 

“Hey, yeah we think that sounds fun! We’ve missed you guys.” San tells him eventually.

Seonghwa’s relieved and looking forward to seeing his friends as they make a plan to meet later in the day. He says goodbye to San and reiterates the conversation to Hongjoong, who mirrors his wide smile. They walk a little further before they turn around to head back to the car, having some time to kill before they’re supposed to meet with Wooyoung and San.

Seonghwa feels more fulfilled than he has in weeks. He’ll still have a mountain of paperwork and assignments when he returns to work, but it can wait, Hongjoong’s brown eyes looking at him with love taking priority, and always should. He presses his lips to Hongjoong’s, both of them smiling too much to really kiss, Seonghwa’s feet nearly numb where they’re buried in the snow, but Seonghwa still thinks it’s the best Christmas he’s ever had, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a story about Christmas morning in the sci-fi genre”
> 
> Sorry for uploading late again, I'm all caught up again now, lol
> 
> I really like how this one turned out, let me know if you did too and thank you for reading!!


	10. One Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE 
> 
> This chapter does include suicide and major character death, please please please don't read if you're at all uncomfortable, I want all of my readers to be safe.

Wooyoung takes another drink, gritting his teeth against the bite of the alcohol, snow and wind nipping at him as he stumbles down the deserted road. His legs wobble underneath him, his feet slipping on the ice, but he ignores all of it, determined to drink until the cloudiness in his mind drowns out every thought about why he’s utterly, completely alone on Christmas.

He can’t spend the holiday with his family, who disowned him years ago, the second they found out he’s gay. He’d gone off to college, been fine with his life without them. After he graduated, he grew apart from his college friends, but he landed a comfortable desk job, and found San. His spinning head throws image after image at him of San smiling, his eyes turned up, dimples on his cheeks, head thrown back in a laugh and happiness radiating off of him. His stomach lurches, and he’s sure he’s going to throw up in the snow before the feeling passes. 

He would do anything to go back and change the past year, where everything had come together in his life, and subsequently fallen apart.

He met San a year and a half ago at a Summer party his company threw, and he was immediately enamored with him. They connected from the first conversation they had, the attraction and chemistry obvious between them. They started dating soon after, resulting in some of the best months of Wooyoung’s life. San was the most considerate, caring, and loving boyfriend he could’ve asked for. 

He became friends with San’s friends, forming a tight knit group as they all got along well and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Wooyoung got insecure at times, worried about San getting bored of him or deserving someone better, but San never hesitated to reassure him that he was good enough and that he loved him. Last Christmas was the best Wooyoung had ever had, exchanging meaningful gifts with San and spending the day wrapped in his arms surrounded by cheerful decorations. 

Near the end of the next Spring, Wooyoung started noticing little things about San that made doubts and questions arise in him. In hindsight, he could’ve just talked to him. As another swig burns down Wooyoung’s throat, he thinks that if hindsight is 20/20, then before he must’ve been completely blind. 

The first thing happened was in late April; he noticed the password on San’s phone had changed. San had a password on his phone since Wooyoung knew him, as most people do, but from early on San told him what it was, unbothered by Wooyoung being able to get into his phone at any time. However, that day when he went to type it in to San’s phone to send himself a picture that San had taken and it didn’t work, he frowned in confusion. He should’ve asked his boyfriend about the password, but instead he dismissed it, deciding to just ask San to send him the picture later, and the confusion became distant whispers that faded with time. 

Until they returned full force when he started to notice San locking himself alone in their bedroom more often. He didn’t have a problem with San wanting privacy or time by himself of course, but when it started to resemble secrecy more than anything, it made the doubt that had taken root in his chest grow. He didn’t know why he hesitated to communicate his feelings to San, he supposes he was more worried about disrupting the security they’d created, assuring himself he was overthinking things, which partially worked. 

April turned into May, and on one of the warm Spring days Wooyoung was lounging on the couch half watching the show that was playing on the tv, San shuffling around the kitchen, having offered to make dinner for them. San’s phone rang, and he paused what he was doing to answer it, greeting Hongjoong, one of their close friends, with a smile. 

Their conversation was casual and light, Wooyoung not really paying attention, until San put Hongjoong on speakerphone so he could use both of his hands. They continued catching up on what had been going on lately, and talking about wanting to get everyone together for a night out like they hadn't done in a while. 

“So are you still picking me up-”

Wooyoung sat up when he heard a commotion in the kitchen and Hongjoong’s voice cut off, whipping around to see San scrambling to get the phone off speakerphone. San looked over to the couch, his eyes widening when he saw Wooyoung looking back at him. He gave Wooyoung an unconvincing smile and an awkward laugh before he turned away too quickly to get back to what he’d been doing. 

Wooyoung turned around to sit back down on the couch, startled by San’s odd behavior. Why would San go through so much effort to keep him from hearing whatever Hongjoong was going to say? When he thought about it, San and Hongjoong did seem really close, never before coming across to Wooyoung as more than platonic, but recently, with the other suspicious things San had been doing, Wooyoung couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Hongjoong  _ was  _ gorgeous, talented, and liked by everyone he talked to. 

The weird occurrence fell to the back of Wooyoung’s mind, but the jittery feeling and signs that San was hiding something from him stayed on the surface as the month continued. He couldn’t ignore it anymore when he started noticing occasional questionable purchases on their shared account. He wondered why San was buying jewelry, and what he needed a new suit for. 

The distrust continued to grow within Wooyoung, and he was more wary around San, more insecure in their relationship as he became more and more sure that something was going on with his boyfriend, and he felt he had all the reason to suspect Hongjoong. Anger started to bubble up in him, starting in a low simmer but threatening more. 

Everything came to a head towards the end of May; it was the weekend, and San told Wooyoung that he was going out to run a couple errands. 

“Oh, I’ll come with you!” Wooyoung offered. 

San paused where he was putting on his shoes, “Oh- uh well I mean, you don’t need to, it’s okay, you’d be really bored anyway. I’ll try to hurry, and we can hang out tonight, okay? I promise.” San moved forward, pressed a light kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek, and walked out the door before Wooyoung could respond. 

As Wooyoung lounged around the house, he felt restless, his swirling thoughts making him agitated and anxious. A frown was permanently etched onto his face, his chest constricting as he couldn’t get every odd moment with San out of his head, every time he pulled his phone away from him in alarm or locked himself away, thinking Wooyoung wouldn’t notice and acting like everything was okay. Why couldn’t he just be honest with him? 

Wooyoung had worked himself into the monster of all bad moods by about noon, his brain seemingly fixated on picturing Hongjoong and San together. He tried to distract himself by scrolling through Instagram, when he saw a new story from none other than Hongjoong. He filled with rage just by seeing his name. He clicked on the story to see a picture of a cafe, and he pressed on the screen to look at it longer, realizing that it’s a cafe San had taken him to countless times. 

Just out of curiosity, and prepared to feel ridiculous, he switched to Snapchat, clicking over to the map. His heart dropped when he saw that San was at Hongjoong’s house with him. He tried to breathe evenly, telling himself that there must be some sort of explanation. He’d ask San about it when he got back, and he’d explain it, would explain all of the weird things Wooyoung had been noticing, and everything would be okay. He stayed off his phone while he waited for San to get home. 

When San got back, he had groceries with him, and Wooyoung started helping him put them away in silence, trying to figure out how to bring up the topic. He reminded himself to stay calm, to not let his assumptions and worries take control. San wouldn’t lie to him.

“So how were your errands?” He ended up asking. 

“They were okay, boring like I said.” San shrugged. Wooyoung wondered what kind of boring errand he could’ve been doing at Hongjoong’s house. 

“I saw on Instagram that Hongjoong was at that cafe you like.” Wooyoung commented, pushing further. 

“Oh, I haven’t been there in forever, we should go soon. Maybe even with Hongjoong, it’s been too long since we’ve hung out with him.” San hummed, continuing to walk around the kitchen putting groceries away. Wooyoung didn’t understand how he could sound so calm and confident while lying to his face. 

“Yeah…” Wooyoung couldn’t look at San at the moment, his confusion and frustration rising uncomfortably, and he walked out of the kitchen.

That night, Wooyoung and San were on the couch watching a movie, and San paused it, telling him he had to use the bathroom before he walked away. Soon after San left, his phone was lighting up with texts across the couch. Wooyoung froze, wondering if he was crossing a line, but he thought San was the one who crossed a line when he lied to him. 

He reached over and grabbed San’s phone, and while he still couldn’t unlock it, he could see that there were multiple texts, all from Hongjoong. Seeing his name show up on San’s phone after everything made bile rise in the back of Wooyoung’s throat. He put San’s phone back when he heard him come out of the bathroom. 

“What are you and Hongjoong talking about?” He asked before San could play the movie again, feigning a casual tone.

“Uh, were you going through my phone?” San asked, suddenly nervous as he eyed Wooyoung.

“No, it’s not like I can since you changed the password and won’t tell me what it is, but I was curious and saw that he was texting you.” 

“Well I don’t really like that you did that, but we aren’t talking about anything anyways.” San said, his tone defensive. 

Wooyoung felt something inside him snap when San got on his case while he was the one that had been lying and hiding things for weeks, “Well I don’t really like that you fucking lied to me.” 

“What are you talking about?” San’s face twisted in bewilderment, looking at Wooyoung like he’d grown a second head. 

“Don’t play dumb, San. It’s not cute.” Wooyoung bit, “You’ve been acting so fucking weird for  _ weeks.  _ First your phone, and then locking yourself in our room, not wanting me to hear when Hongjoong talked about you picking him up, buying romantic things and thinking I wouldn’t notice, it just never stopped.” Wooyoung listed, every word full of accusation. 

San stared at him, seeming dumbfounded, only serving to stoke the fire of Wooyoung’s anger. 

“Woo, I-” 

“And now,” Wooyoung didn’t let San get a word in, too caught up in the onslaught of rage and  _ hurt  _ that was flowing through him, “You lied to me about what you were doing, I know you were at Hongjoong’s house.” 

Wooyoung’s hands clenched into fists, watching as San’s face turned to shock, his cheeks bright red, but he said nothing in his defense. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Wooyoung spit, “You know, you could’ve just told me you want to fuck him and saved us both a lot of trouble.” 

“Wait what?” San asked, standing up from the couch in his disbelief. Wooyoung stood to face him, getting fed up with San’s innocent act. 

“Save it. I have all the evidence I need, right up until you lied to me about seeing him.” Wooyoung paused. 

All he could see was San going over to Hongjoong’s house, touching him, kissing him, fucking him while Wooyoung sat at home. White hot fury flooded his veins, consuming everything, and he wanted,  _ needed  _ San to hurt as much as he was. 

“I’m so glad you got bored of me, because I was feeling the same way about you. I’m sure I can find someone better to fuck, Seonghwa is pretty hot, and maybe he’ll actually be honest with me. And just so we’re clear, we’re fucking done. I guess I should thank you, you did me a fucking favor.” Wooyoung was fuming when he finished, his heart racing and blood boiling, pumping loudly in his ears. 

San only stared at him with wide eyes, filled with tears. He blinked, making the tears fall down his cheeks, and Wooyoung felt like he’d been doused with freezing water, chilling him to the bone as his anger was replaced with mortification. He’d been dating San for nearly a year, and he never once saw him cry. 

“I- Woo, I-” There was a choked off pause, “A-All of those things, it was all for you... I was planning a surprise for our one year anniversary. Hongjoong was just h-helping me set it up.” The look in San’s eyes was so utterly broken, and Wooyoung’s heart shattered.

“I just… I’m gonna go.” San said, already walking towards the door.

“San, wait, please!” Wooyoung ran forward to stop him with an hand on his arm, “I’m so sorry San, please, I didn’t mean any of it, I just- I thought-  _ fuck,  _ please, don’t go, I’m so fucking sorry.” Wooyoung couldn’t let him leave thinking that was what he actually thought, tears streaming down his own face.

“Don’t, Wooyoung. Just- don’t.” San’s voice was devoid of any emotion, tear stains still on his cheeks as he refused to even look at Wooyoung. He pulled his arm out of Wooyoung’s grip and walked out the door without another word. 

  
  


After that day, Wooyoung did everything he could to talk to San, to try to explain and make it up to him in any way he could, but San wanted nothing to do with him, and Wooyoung couldn’t blame him. He’d let his own jealousy get in the way, had made every bad choice when he could’ve just talked to San. Now no matter what, he can never take back what he said, and he knows San could never forget it. 

It’s been half a year since then, and not a day has gone by that Wooyoung hasn’t hated himself for what he did to San. 

Once San left him and told his friends what happened, they all left Wooyoung to stay by San’s side. Wooyoung couldn’t fix what he’d done, couldn’t put the pieces of his life back together, and now he’s alone on Christmas, the dark suffocating around him as he finally reaches his destination.

He pulls out his phone, the words on the screen swimming as he types and presses send. 

[Merry Christmas, Sannie.]

The text doesn’t go through, they haven’t in months. 

He drags his feet to the middle of the bridge, stopping and emptying the rest of the bottle into his mouth and tossing it away, no longer able to see straight. 

If Wooyoung could change one thing about the past year, even his whole life, it would be that day. He would give anything to change it, would do anything, but he can’t. The only thing he can do is climb onto the edge of the bridge, wobbling when he stands. He looks down, the water below an eternity away. The wind whips viciously at his skin, freezing his lungs. 

He trembles as he eyes the abyss underneath him.

San’s face, his shaky words and defeated eyes, they’re all as clear in his head as they were six months ago. A stray tear falls, burning against his skin, numbed from the cold. 

Wooyoung remembers how San smelled, his smile, how sweet his laugh was, his gentle, loving touch, and he remembers how he’d been the one to break him. Now he’s lost everything and everyone. There’s no one left to care when he’s gone. 

Taking one final breath, he steps off the ledge and the last thing he knows is the feeling of falling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “What if you had the power to rewrite the last year? Write about what you would change”
> 
> Wow, I know this one got really dark, but like I said when I started this, I'm trying to explore some different things. Let me know what you thought, and don't worry, there will be some soft chapters coming up soon too.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	11. Mistletoe

I stared at myself in the mirror, eyeing my outfit with scrutinization. Messing with my hair for the thousandth time, I decided it was good enough, and wandered out of my room to find Yeosang. I walked into his room, flopping on his bed while he sat in front of the mirror doing his makeup. 

“You could’ve knocked you know, what if I’d been changing?” Yeosang rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before, Yeo.” I said with a wide teasing smile. 

It was true, having been friends with Yeosang since we were in middle school, up until being roommates in college, it was safe to say that I was as comfortable with my best friend as I was with my family, maybe even more. I shared everything with him, always teasing that he was my soulmate, which our friends caught onto and started repeating. 

Yeosang finished his makeup and turned to face me.

“You look hot.” I complimented, appreciating his simple outfit and light makeup, “You know, you could easily get laid if you wanted to.” 

“Yeah right, that’s the last thing I want.” Yeosang answered, “I’m going to go, say hi, and leave. You’re lucky I’m even going at all.”

I hadn’t wanted to go to the biggest Christmas party of the year by myself and spend the night without my best friend, so I’d whined and pouted and pleaded until he finally relented. 

“Thank you Sangie~” I sing-songed. 

Yeosang cracked a smile and stood, pulling me with him, “Yeah whatever, let’s just go get this over with.” 

  
  


We got to the party when it was in full swing, the large space bustling with college students. Christmas decorations littered both the inside and outside, screaming holiday cheer in every room. Colorful lights brightened the surroundings, and I found it beautiful, adding a particularly pleasant aspect to the otherwise typical college party. 

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked Yeosang as we walked inside, having to raise my voice over the noise. 

“Sure, one drink and then I’m leaving.” Yeosang put on his most convincing stern face.

I laughed at Yeosang’s insistence and agreed, both of us making our way through the sea of people to get to the kitchen. We got our drinks, neither of us wanting anything too strong, and talked lightly while we drank them. 

“Hey, I’m glad you came!” Seonghwa greeted, walking up to them with San on his heels. 

“Hey guys.” Yeosang replied, both of us smiling at our good friends.

The four of us fell into conversation, talking about our plans for Christmas and how relieved we were to have a break from classes for the holiday. I finished my drink while we talked, itching to move to the loud upbeat music. 

“I think I’m gonna go dance, do you guys want to come?” I asked the small group. 

“Sure!” San downed what remained in his cup and moved to my side.

“Maybe a little later.” Yeosang shrugged. 

“I’ll stay here too, you guys go ahead.” Seonghwa answered. 

I was glad Yeosang wouldn’t have to stand there by himself. While he only went because I asked him to, I still hoped he wouldn’t be completely miserable in the meantime. I nodded to the two of them and walked into the crowd with San. 

I lost myself to the feeling of the music, the bass pounding in my chest as I moved to the beat. San was by my side, both of us smiling and laughing as we danced together. I found myself hoping Yeosang was having some sort of fun too before the thought was swept away in the current of sweaty bodies and blaring music. We danced until I was panting, and I paused to catch my breath. 

San started saying something to me, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of the party. I would’ve heard him if I was focused on him, but my eyes had seeked out Yeosang, curious about what he was up to, and my attention was caught when I saw him talking to someone I vaguely recognized. I remembered his name was Jongho, and he was currently eyeing Yeosang up and down, a light hand on his arm while he laughed at something Yeosang said. Yeosang had a small, shy smile on his face.

“I’ll be right back.” I said to San, wincing in apology when I ended up cutting off what he’d been saying. He didn’t seem affected, and he shrugged before continuing to dance.

I took that as my cue to walk away, weaving back through the dance floor to where Yeosang was. 

“Oh hey Woo, this is Jongho.” Yeosang introduced when I reached the pair. 

“Yeah, I think we’ve had a couple classes together.” I gave Jongho a polite smile, the other returning it before we both turned back to Yeosang. 

“Yeo, do you want to dance with me now?” I asked him with a slight pout before Jongho could say anything. 

Yeosang paused, looking between the two of us. I had no idea why his decision started to seem more important than whether he wanted to dance or not. 

“Yeah sure, let’s go.” Yeosang smiled, and I felt oddly smug. “It was really nice catching up.” He turned to say to Jongho, and I could’ve sworn the other looked disappointed. 

I couldn’t help but think oh well as I grabbed Yeosang’s arm to pull him away. I would’ve felt bad, but I was sure Jongho could go find someone else to talk to as we found our way to the middle of the dance floor. 

The space was even more crowded when I danced with Yeosang than when I had with San, but I found I didn’t mind as the strangers around us pushed us together. Our arms found each other as we moved, and I figured it was more comfortable to dance that way anyways. Yeosang looked even prettier up close. He must’ve done a really good job on his makeup. 

I loved watching Yeosang open up when he danced, nearly doing a complete 180 from the shy Yeosang that liked to stay at home watching anime and playing with his drones. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, that Yeosang was my best friend after all, but it was nice to see this more confident, outgoing side of him once in a while too. It was captivating. 

Yeosang eventually pulled away from me, his hair sticking to his skin and sweat dripping down his neck. 

“I’ve gotta use the bathroom.” He told me, walking away once I nodded in understanding.

I decided to leave the dance floor too in search of another drink, my mouth suddenly far too dry. I passed by San, who had stopped dancing and was engrossed in conversation with Seonghwa. They were standing a little too close to be casual, hands wandering a little too far a little too frequently to only be friendly. I smiled to myself, hoping they’d figure out their feelings and get together soon. 

Once in the kitchen, I opted for a cup of water, chugging the whole thing in one gulp. I paused for another minute to cool down, my body feeling loose and tired, a light buzz humming through me. I set my empty cup down and walked back out of the room, planning to find Yeosang again and ask if he wanted to dance more, or go back home with him if that’s what he wanted to do. My chest swelled when I thought of him wanting to go home and decompress with cuddles on the couch.

I turned the corner to make my way to the living room, but I jumped when I ran into Yeosang in the hallway between the two rooms. 

“Oh hey, I was just looking for you.” I told him. 

“Well you found me,” Yeosang chuckled, “and look.” He pointed above us. I followed the direction of his finger to see that we ended up below some mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” I laughed. 

“It would be even funnier if you kissed me.” Yeosang teased. 

Yeosang was smiling, amusement in his eyes, but I froze, his words embedding themselves in my head. He looked so relaxed, his eyes sparkling, Christmas lights glowing against his skin.

I couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol when I felt the pull towards my best friend, the urge to follow through on what he said and know what his lips felt like, so I leaned forward and captured them with my own. 

Yeosang let out a quiet gasp in surprise, and I pulled back. It was nothing but a light press of lips, but it still left mine tingling. Yeosang’s eyes were blown wide, lips still parted. I felt my cheeks burn, and I was ready to laugh it off and salvage the rest of the night and possibly our friendship, when Yeosang fisted my jacket in his hands and crashed our mouths together again. 

It took only a second for me to realize what was happening before I was enthusiastically on board, my hands gripping his waist. 

I was grappling with the fact that I was kissing my best friend, wondering if I should be and why it felt so good, when Yeosang tilted his head to deepen the kiss and every other thought vanished. His lips slid against mine, somewhat messy and unpracticed, but our enthusiasm, the hint of his tongue in my mouth, his hands moving up to tangle in my hair as I wrapped my arms more firmly around him and pulled him closer, more than made up for it. I tried to come up with a single reason why we hadn’t done this sooner. 

Everything felt too warm as I kissed him, my head full of everything Yeosang as our tongues tangled, drawing a low groan from my throat. I bit down on his bottom lip, his small whine like an electric bolt through me. It was all too much and not enough, his hands, his lips, his tongue, I felt like I was burning from the inside, but I never wanted it to stop. 

“Um- excuse me?” 

The trance was broken, and I pulled back from Yeosang, both of us looking at the girl who had spoken.

“Sorry, I just need to use the bathroom..” She looked anywhere but at us, and I only then realized we were standing directly in the middle of the narrow hallway, blocking anyone from passing. 

We hurried to get out of her way, offering our apologies as she scrambled past us with a blush. When we were alone again, I looked at Yeosang. His cheeks were flushed, his shirt disheveled, his lips red and swollen. What we’d just done caught up to me, and I fell forward to lean my forehead against his collarbone, his skin heated. I felt the chuckle in his chest. 

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Not that I’m complaining, obviously.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. 

“I can’t believe we just did that.” I laughed, my arms finding their way around his waist again. 

“I can’t either. I’ve kinda been wanting to for forever.” Yeosang admitted. 

I leaned back just enough to look at him, “Really?” He nodded. “Honestly, I never really thought about it before, but tonight I really wanted to, and now I don’t really want to stop.” 

My eyes flickered down to Yeosang’s lips, our faces only inches apart, and I knew Yeosang saw the movement. 

He smirked, “I’m fine with that.” 

He kissed me again, his touch firm but his lips soft. 

I already shared everything with Yeosang, he was my best friend, my other half, my soulmate. Having this last piece of each other only made sense, I just didn’t know why I hadn’t realized it sooner. I pulled back before it could go further and my brain would be too cloudy to speak.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if I took you out on a date tomorrow?” I teased.

He smiled, “The funniest.” and his lips found mine again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a memoir about your favorite festive or holiday memory”
> 
> I felt bad for Woo in the last chapter, so I was glad to write this, lol  
> Woosang soulmates, honestly
> 
> Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought!!


	12. Chocolatey Treat

Seonghwa  _ hates  _ fudge. He thinks it doesn’t belong at Christmas, or anywhere in the general vicinity of him and his members’ Christmas dinner. He’d never been particularly fond of it before, the taste too strong and rich for him, but tonight, the feeling of smoldering irritation growing with each passing second makes him officially hate the chocolatey treat. 

The rest of the members are blissfully unaware of his frustration, each of them enjoying the meal in front of them, the seasonal dishes mouthwatering. They’re eating and talking with wide smiles, filling the room with a warm, pleasant atmosphere. Seonghwa’s barely touched his food, his hands fisting his silverware a little too lightly, too focused on Wooyoung, who’s sitting across the table from him.

Wooyoung throws his head back in a laugh, clearly exaggerated, over whatever San had said. His hand lands on San’s arm as the sly smile stays present on his lips. He looks at San with hooded eyes, and Seonghwa watches San stutter, flustered under the irresistible look that Seonghwa himself knows all too well. 

Seonghwa takes a deep breath to calm the storm brewing inside him as Wooyoung talks to San, giggling light and airy. He’s submerged by the sea of anger when Wooyoung’s eyes land directly on his, a mischievous glint in them. Wooyoung holds the eye contact while he picks up a piece of fudge from the tin on the table before he’s turning back to San. 

Seonghwa can only sit and watch, his hands itching to reach out and  _ take,  _ while Wooyoung feeds the fudge to San with a pout of ‘try this Sannie.’ San returns the favor, grabbing another piece of fudge and holding it out to Wooyoung for him to take. Seonghwa grits his teeth together when Wooyoung’s lips slip over San’s fingers while he takes the fudge from them. 

Wooyoung runs his tongue over his bottom lip slowly to catch any leftover chocolate. Seonghwa knows that Wooyoung’s more than aware that both him and San are fixated on the movement, and he smirks, sipping his drink like he’s completely unaware and innocent. The rest of the table remains ignorant of the little show Wooyoung’s putting on, and it makes annoyance crawl under Seonghwa’s skin. 

Seonghwa and Wooyoung don’t have a label for what they are, haven’t since they started seeking each other out every time they felt needy, whether it be for someone to talk to, cuddles, a long makeout session, or something more, it was always the two of them. 

That meant that Seonghwa couldn’t fault Wooyoung for flirting with San, given that they never said they were exclusive, but tonight, when Wooyoung watches for Seonghwa’s reaction every time he leans a little closer to San, or stares at Seonghwa with his bottom lip caught between his teeth before slowly feeding San another piece of fudge, he feels more than justified in the anger towards Wooyoung’s smug attitude that’s coursing through him. 

“Hwa, are you okay?” Hongjoong’s voice tears his attention away from Wooyoung and his infuriatingly pouty lips. Hongjoong gestures at Seonghwa’s nearly untouched plate. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” Seonghwa puts on a strained smile, hoping Hongjoong won’t notice, “Just not super hungry.”   
  
“Oh, okay… well you should try some of the fudge, it’s really good.” Hongjoong smiles before Yunho ropes him back into their conversation. 

“Yeah, Hwa,” Wooyoung’s voice is low, “it’s  _ really _ good.” He smirks at Seonghwa, who decides that that’s the last straw.

“Wooyoung, can I talk to you about something in private?” Seonghwa’s voice is tight with forced politeness. 

“Of course, hyung.” Wooyoung says, his voice sickly sweet. 

A few suspicious glances are tossed their way as the pair stands to leave the table, but their focus returns to their food easily enough. Once they’re away from prying eyes, Seonghwa grips Wooyoung’s arm and tugs him into the nearest bathroom, closing the door and pushing Wooyoung against it, his arms on either side of the younger’s head. 

“Something wrong, hyung?” Wooyoung tilts his head, looking at Seonghwa through his lashes.

“God, you’re so infuriating sometimes.” Seonghwa growls. 

Wooyoung gives him a shit eating grin, and Seonghwa crashes their lips together. Wooyoung whines into Seonghwa’s mouth, pulling him closer. Seonghwa breaks the kiss to tug Wooyoung’s hands off of him, pinning his wrists against the door.

“You don’t get to touch.” He leans in, his breath against Wooyoung’s ear, “You’re going to stay still and take what I give you.” He kisses down Wooyoung’s neck and punctuates his words with a nip to his collarbone, earning him a yelp and a shudder from the younger.

He captures Wooyoung’s lips again, wasting no time in sticking his tongue down his throat and biting on his lip. Wooyoung’s lips feel like heaven against Seonghwa’s, threatening to make him lose himself to them, but he focuses on what he came here to do.

He moves down Wooyoung’s jaw, his neck, his chest, while his hands sneak under his shirt, splaying over his heated skin. He rakes his nails over Wooyoung’s flat stomach, feeling the firm muscles ripple underneath as Wooyoung shivers with a shaky sigh. One of his hands moves further up, teasing a nipple and pinching the firm bud, while the other lowers to cup Wooyoung through his jeans, rubbing over his length. Wooyoung whines again, bucking against Seonghwa’s hand, and Seonghwa pulls back. 

“You’re gonna have to be quiet, baby. Can you do that?” Seonghwa asks, and Wooyoung nods eagerly. 

“Use your words, baby.”

“I’ll be quiet, I promise. I’ll be good, just please.” Wooyoung pleads. 

Seonghwa smirks and falls to his knees, making quick work of unbuttoning Wooyoung’s jeans and pulling them down to the middle of his thighs, bringing his boxers with them.

Seonghwa kisses his thighs, biting the smooth skin and licking over it. He moves closer to Wooyoung’s dick, Wooyung’s breathing growing heavier the closer he gets. He kisses the base before kissing up his shaft, ending up at the head, licking experimentally at it, swirling his tongue around it. Wooyoung gasps but catches himself, making it cut off in a choked moan. 

He kisses back down the side of Wooyoung’s shaft, letting his tongue slip out to tease him, bringing a hand up to roll his balls between his fingers. He licks a stripe up Wooyoung’s cock, tonguing at the head before moving down again. 

“Hwa, fuck- p-please stop t-teasing.” 

Wooyoung’s trembling under Seonghwa, and Seonghwa can’t help but fill with pride and satisfaction, having already taken Wooyoung, his smug smiles and mouthy remarks, and reduced him to a whining, begging mess. 

“I really don’t think you get to complain about teasing, baby.” Seonghwa replies pointedly. 

“I’m sorry- just  _ god,  _ please, I need your- ah fuck!”

Seonghwa finally wraps his lips around Wooyoung’s cock, taking him in his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he moves along his length. He takes as much of him as he can, the tip hitting the back of his throat. He sets up a brutal pace, pulling back and sucking Wooyoung down quickly, giving him no time to catch his breath as he pants and leans his weight against the door. 

Seonghwa hums around Wooyoung’s cock, hot and heavy against his tongue, making Wooyoung throw his head back to thud against the door. He swirls his tongue around him as he sucks him faster, his fingers digging into his thighs and keeping him from thrusting into his mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good.” Wooyoung pants, his hands flying up to grip Seonghwa’s hair. 

Seonghwa immediately pulls off of him, Wooyoung whining at the loss. Seonghwa glances up at him, sees his cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open. He tells himself to ignore his own cock, hard and throbbing in his jeans. 

“I said no touching, baby.” He reminds Wooyoung, his voice low. 

Wooyoung takes his hands out of Seonghwa’s hair like he’d been burned, placing them back against the door. Seonghwa takes him in his mouth again, making him groan. He takes pity on him, bobbing his head quickly, sucking and running his tongue along him. He knows Wooyoung’s nearing the edge when his legs quiver, struggling to hold him up, his own hand clamped over his mouth to keep in his moans, his chest heaving. 

Seonghwa’s body feels heated with arousal while he sucks Wooyoung off, wishing he could hear his pretty sounds, but enjoying the younger following his directions and trying to keep himself quiet despite the pleasure he’s giving him. 

Wooyoung pulls his hand away from his mouth, “Fuck, gonna come, Hwa.” 

Seonghwa takes him in his mouth further until his cock is down his throat, Wooyoung letting out small whines and groans. Seonghwa brings his hand around, rubbing a finger over Wooyoung’s hole, and that’s all it takes for Wooyoung to come hot in his mouth, shaking and moaning Seonghwa’s name. 

Seonghwa swallows around him until he’s whimpering, and he pulls off, tucking him into his boxers and buttoning his jeans back up. Wooyoung is panting, his eyes screwed shut when Seonghwa stands up to face him again. He opens his eyes, dark as they look into Seonghwa’s. Seonghwa kisses him, slow and deep, before his mouth is at Wooyoung’s ear again. 

“I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, remember that.” He growls. 

Wooyoung nods, and Seonghwa nips his earlobe before he steps back from him. Wooyoung glances down at the visible bulge in his jeans, reaching a hand out to touch him. Seonghwa grips his wrist to stop him. 

“Sorry baby, no touching.” Seonghwa winks at him, before he guides him away from the door and steps out of the bathroom, leaving Wooyoung alone. 

He adjusts himself as he walks back to the dinner table, hoping his arousal isn’t too noticeable, but not too bothered if it is. He sits down, Wooyoung sheepishly walking in the room soon after and sitting down in his chair. A couple of the members’ attention is drawn their way, San looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes, but Seonghwa shrugs and starts eating, the rest of them eventually losing interest. 

Seonghwa enjoys the food, joining in on conversations with the members around him. He feels happy, smiling and laughing, basking in the holiday spirit. Occasionally he smirks at Wooyoung, whose cheeks burn red. Wooyoung still talks brightly with San, but they keep their distance, neither of them touching the fudge.    
  
Seonghwa still doesn’t like fudge, but he finds that surrounded by his members, Wooyoung’s flushed cheeks, and the taste of his come still on Seonghwa’s tongue, that he really doesn’t mind it.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “What is one food you HATE and think doesn’t belong at Christmas?”
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!


	13. Christmas Eve

“God Wooyoung, why can’t you just keep it in your pants for one fucking night!?” The words are out of Seonghwa’s mouth before he can stop them. 

Seven heads whip towards him, eyes wide at his outburst. After a moment of silence, Hongjoong slowly grabs the remote off the table and pauses the movie they’d been watching. 

“What the fuck, Hwa?” San’s voice is dripping with anger, his arms around Wooyoung where they’re sitting together on the couch.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to bite back a response, but Hongjoong beats him to it. 

“I think we’re just going to go get some snacks, right guys?” He hints to the other four members. 

“From where? It’s Christmas Eve, everywhere’s closed.” Yeosang points out. 

“I’m sure we can find somewhere, come on, you guys can pick out whatever you want on me.” Hongjoong promises, while fixing Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and San with a look that clearly tells them to get their shit together. 

The offer is enough for the other members to perk up, jumping off the couch and pulling on their shoes and coats. Seonghwa stays glued to his seat, a glare on Wooyoung and San, who are looking back at him with matched anger, their eyes confused but defensive. The rest of the members file out, the door closing behind them with finality, leaving only the three of them.

“Seriously Seonghwa, what the fuck.” Wooyoung reiterates what San had said. 

Seonghwa pauses to think about how to explain himself. The eight of them had chosen to spend Christmas Eve together, having a nice dinner together and then relaxing with a movie, opening their presents to each other the following morning. The night had been pleasant, until the little displays of affection Wooyoung and San kept sharing started to get under Seonghwa’s skin. 

Wooyoung and San announced that they’re dating months ago, and had been together longer before that. It’s no secret among them, and Seonghwa doesn’t normally have a problem with them being a typical loving couple around them, in the safety of their dorms where they’re allowed to, away from the prying eyes of cameras and staff members. 

However, he felt himself growing more irritated lately every time they shared a kiss, or nuzzled into each other, whispering sweet words. It makes his chest hurt, causing his mood to plummet, and more often than not he wished they could tone it down, just so the feeling would stop. 

Tonight, the two had been curled around each other on the couch, only exchanging the occasional peck on the lips before turning their attention back to the movie. Yunho and Mingi were doing nothing less with each other on the other side of the couch, but Seonghwa couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other two, his mouth pulled down in a frown. Did they have to act so cute with each other all the time? He was just trying to watch a movie, and they were distracting. 

The words that had sparked this argument spilled out of his mouth without his permission, but he couldn’t find it in him to regret them when he remembered every time he ached because of how disgustingly  _ sweetly  _ they smiled and whispered to each other. 

“I just wish you guys didn’t have to be all over each other for once, especially while we’re trying to watch a movie.” Seonghwa spits. 

He knows he’s being harsh, but he just needs them to  _ stop,  _ so he can finally get it out of his head. 

“We weren’t even doing anything!” Wooyoung yells, clearly exasperated. 

“Yunho and Mingi were doing the same thing, and you didn’t care!” San added. “Nobody cared about us but you.” 

“Oh please, don’t act like you weren’t this close to tongue fucking each other.” Seonghwa answers, ignoring the point that he can’t defend against. His chest just feels so tight, and he needs it to stop. 

“You can’t be serious. We barely even kissed!” Wooyoung’s voice raises. 

“Well it’s really frustrating, so just stop!” Seonghwa screams back. 

“But why!? Why do you care so much!?” Wooyoung cries, watching Seonghwa with so much irritated scrutiny it makes his heart pound and his pulse race. 

“I don’t know, maybe because you both look really fucking good together and it’s super fucking irritating!?” Seonghwa blurts, his breath hitching when he realizes what he said. 

The room falls silent, only the sounds of their labored breathing heard as the anger bleeds out of them to be replaced by shock. 

“So…” It’s San who breaks the silence, his words slow and careful, “It doesn’t bother you because you don’t like us doing it, it bothers you because you do like it?” 

“I guess?” Seonghwa groans, “I don’t- fuck, I don’t know.” 

San and Wooyoung turn to each other, seeming to share a look between themselves, before they face Seonghwa again, who feels sufficiently confused. Wooyoung stands and walks towards Seonghwa, his eyes watching him closely. 

“Can I sit?” He asks, and Seonghwa nods. 

The younger sits next to him, but throws his legs over his lap to face him. He runs his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, his fingertips raking against his scalp. Seonghwa feels some of the tension leave him, his shoulders relaxing.

“It’s okay baby, I think I know what’s going on.” Wooyoung’s voice has lost any traces of animosity, instead his words almost whispered, soft and soothing. Seonghwa can only look into his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Wooyoung breathes. 

Seonghwa’s eyes widen in alarm, immediately snapping towards San to see if he’d heard what Wooyoung asked. San only watches them with curiosity and a hint of a smirk, gesturing for Seonghwa to answer Wooyoung. 

His heart beating in his ears and the weight of Wooyoung over his lap, Seonghwa looks at him and nods.

Wooyoung grins and closes the gap between them. When their lips meet, Seonghwa realizes that it all makes sense. Why the strange feeling in his chest when he saw Wooyoung and San together felt so much like longing, why the confusing cravings made him so angry. 

He kisses Wooyoung back with everything in him, pouring all of his feelings into the touch, urging Wooyoung to deepen it, to kiss him harder. Wooyoung chuckles against his mouth but obliges, tilting his head and teasing him with his tongue. Seonghwa’s head spins. When they part, he’s breathing hard for reasons that have nothing to do with the rage that was consuming him only minutes before. 

Before he can dive back in to taste Wooyoung’s lips again he hears San’s voice. 

“We’ve talked about this before, you know.” He says from where he’s still sitting back, watching the two of them. 

“Really?” The thought had never even crossed Seonghwa’s mind, even though it should’ve, given that his emotions were all pointing him towards this. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, “why do you think we tease you all the time? We love it when you’re around, and we love spending time with you.” 

“We’ve wanted to bring it up to you for a while, but we weren’t sure how. We thought you might be interested in being with us, but we wanted to find the right time to talk about it.” San speaks up. 

Seonghwa’s trying to force his fuzzy head to wrap around their words and the fact that he can still taste Wooyoung on his lips, “Be with you, as in…” He trails off in question. 

“As in be with us, in whatever way you want.” San supplies. 

“We only want what you want, but I for one, would be so happy to be able to call both of you my boyfriends.” Wooyoung smiles at the thought. 

Seonghwa feels like he must be dreaming, there’s no way Wooyoung is sitting on his lap, offering for him to be with both him and San. Excitement sparks up his spine at the idea, at being able to have both of them, in every way, in all the ways they already have each other. 

“I… I would really love that.” He tells them eventually. 

Both of their faces light up, and Seonghwa feels like he can’t contain the elation in his chest. San stands to join them, Wooyoung making room for him to sit on the other side of Seonghwa. San leads Seonghwa’s head towards him with a finger on his chin. Seonghwa bites his bottom lip, San’s eyes watching the movement before he leans in to kiss him. 

San’s kiss is different from Wooyoung’s, but no less enticing, the combination of them almost overwhelming, making him fill with endless kinds of warmth. San’s lips are soft where they’re pressed against his, his hand cupping his face. Seonghwa wants to kiss San endlessly, until Wooyoung’s tugging him back to him, and Seonghwa thinks that’s the only other thing he’s okay with doing. 

He alternates between kissing San and Wooyoung, his thoughts scrambled in the heat and affection that’s taken over him. Occasionally Wooyoung and San lean over him to kiss each other, and Seonghwa would use the opportunity to catch his breath if the sight didn’t steal it anyways. 

He’s kissing Wooyoung, his tongue down the other’s throat, San’s hand settled heavy on his thigh and his lips on his neck, when the door opens and the rest of their members file through, bags of snacks in tow. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, but neither Wooyoung or San make any attempt to move off of him or hide what they were doing, both of their hands on him. The rest of the members greet them with a mixture of encouraging smiles, relieved sighs, and playful eyerolls. 

“Great, glad you guys worked it out. Can we finish the movie now?” Hongjoong asks. 

The three of them nod, and the rest of them take their places in the remaining spaces throughout the living room. 

They keep the kissing to a minimum while they resume the movie, Seonghwa having gotten his fix before, as well as with the promise of more later. Instead, they tangle themselves together, Seonghwa unsure where one of them begins and the other ends as they settle comfortably around each other. Seonghwa moves to place a kiss on San’s cheek, hearing his pleased hum, before he tucks his nose under Wooyoung’s jaw. 

He lays with his two boyfriends, feeling beyond blissful. While he’d never expected for this to happen, he now wouldn’t have it any other way, and he thinks that they’re the best Christmas presents he could ever ask for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “It’s Christmas Eve and your characters have broken out in a massive argument”
> 
> I know, I know, I suck at uploading every day, I'm sorryy  
> Anyways, I hope you liked it, let me know what you thought!


	14. Gift

A gift that can be given but not taken,

felt in your veins that thrum with the glow

of the gift given freely

A gift that comes like rushing air

that carries birds’ wings, 

keeping soft feathers afloat

Rain that pours like tears that fall

when the fragile fabric of a gift 

unravels, leaving nothing but frayed ends

The gift that can slip away like sand through your fingers

unless held the way a mother

cradles a child 

This gift is an eternal push and pull,

magnets drawn together, unable to resist,

only to be pushed away and brought back again

Eight gifts given to the world and to each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a poem titled ‘gift’”
> 
> I had some writers block with this one, so I'm not the happiest with it, but I hope you enjoyed it still :)  
> Also this is the last of the poems, and I'm really excited for the upcoming stories!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Let Me Warm You Up

“I can’t wait any longer!” Wooyoung whines at San, who stares up at him with dark eyes from between his legs.

  
  


The two had woken up to a frigid room and snow falling heavily outside the window, an alarm making them both stir. Once the alarm was silenced, Wooyoung groaned and curled further against his boyfriend. San smiled, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and let Wooyoung warm his hands against his skin. 

“We’ve gotta get up baby,” San whispered to Wooyoung, who was slipping back into sleep, “we both have class.” 

Wooyoung opened his eyes to glare at him, before directing his gaze out the window, “I don’t want to go out in that.” He pouted, “Let’s just stay home today where it’s warm.” He closed his eyes again, nudging against San and burrowing under the comforter with a contented hum. 

San couldn’t stop smiling or keep the overwhelming fondness from curling through him as he ran a finger over the smooth skin of Wooyoung’s relaxed face. He knew he’s helpless against Wooyoung, malleable under his boyfriend’s wide smile and pouty lips. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He mumbled to the blonde boy in his arms. 

“Ah, you love me.” Wooyoung giggled, pleased that San conceded to the pair staying in bed. 

Despite the temperature around them, San felt so much warmth rush through him at holding Wooyoung close, everything about the other making him fall further for him, a neverending plummet. 

“Yeah, I do.” San breathed, but Wooyoung was already snoring softly. San placed a light kiss on the top of his head and closed his eyes, falling asleep soon after. 

  
  


The next time they woke up, later in the morning, the snow had only worsened, the room chilling more while they slept. Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably, San wrapping his arms more firmly around him.

“We really should turn up the heat.” San suggested. 

“But that requires getting up.” Wooyoung grumbled. 

“I’ll do it.” San offered, brushing a piece of Wooyoung’s hair aside. 

“But that requires you getting up.” Wooyoung draped himself over San, solidifying his staying in bed, making San chuckle. “It is really cold though.” He added. 

Wooyoung tucked his nose under San’s jaw, his face pressed against his neck, his breath hot on his skin. San’s hands wandered over his back, rubbing over his arms to warm him further. The comforter had fallen part way down Wooyoung’s back, his loose t-shirt showing off the expanse of his neck. San felt the urge to litter it with kisses and marks, suddenly fully aware of the weight of Wooyoung on top of him. 

“I know another way to warm you up.” San’s tone turned sly, one of his hands lowering to press against Wooyoung’s lower back, just above his ass. 

Wooyoung got the hint and raised his head to look at him, his eyebrow raised and lips pulled up in a smirk, “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?” 

Instead of answering, San put his other hand on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, pulling him closer to capture his lips. Wooyoung complied easily, kissing him back with equal hunger. San teased his tongue against Wooyoung’s bottom lip, who opened up for him without hesitation, his own tongue meeting San’s, making them both groan. 

Wooyoung could never get tired of the feeling of San’s lips against his, perfectly soft and full, knowing exactly how to make him fall apart. San’s hands tightened around him, pulling him closer, their kiss passionate with desire. San bucked his hips up against Wooyoung, making their cocks rub together, separated only by their thin boxers. 

Wooyoung gasped against San’s mouth, the feeling electrifying, and he brought his legs up until he was straddling San, his ass settled against his now hard cock. He kissed San again, their growing desperation making it more tongue than anything, the messy slide spiking arousal in them as Wooyoung ground his hips down against San. With a low growl, San flipped them over, hovering over Wooyoung and raking his dark eyes over him. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” San’s hands followed his eyes, feeling the soft dips and hard panes of Wooyoung’s honey skin. 

Wooyoung blushed at the praise, squirming under the attention, and San smiled warmly before taking pity on him and latching his lips onto Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung sighed, his breath hitching when San nipped at his skin, sucking and licking along it, leaving a trail of blooming blues and purples. Wooyoung was breathing heavily as San ravaged his neck until he was fulfilled. Wooyoung let out small whines, trying to rut up against San. 

“Shh, I’ve got you baby.” San kissed him again before moving down, his lips roaming over Wooyoung’s neck, his shoulder, his abs and stomach.

He pulled Wooyoung’s boxers off, kissing his thighs where they used to be and sucking more marks there, Wooyoung shaking underneath him with every one. San would worship every inch of his boyfriend, would explore every part of him with his hands, lips, and tongue, every touch making Wooyoung shiver as love and  _ want _ rush through San. He would, if it weren’t for Wooyoung whining that he can’t wait any longer, his back arching to get San to move, his breath huffing in needy impatience. 

San grins, wide and playful, before he finally takes Wooyoung’s dripping cock in his mouth. Wooyoung cries out, his hands gripping San’s hair and tugging in a delicious burn. San hums around Wooyoung as he bobs his head, his lips tight on his cock, his hand wrapping around him as he licks at the tip. He knows how to bring Wooyoung to the edge in minutes, both satisfaction and demanding heat filling him from the unabashed moans that he pulls from Wooyoung. 

“San, p-please.” Wooyoung chokes out.

San pulls off of his cock and moves back up, flicking a tongue against one of his nipples as he goes, just to hear Wooyoung gasp. 

“What do you need, baby?” San asks, looking into Wooyoung’s eyes, his pupils blown wide. 

Before Wooyoung can answer, San grinds his hips down against him, rubbing their aligned cocks together, the slide smoother with San’s spit slick on Wooyoung’s dick. 

“Fuck!” Wooyoung cries, San groaning from the heat that explodes with the light touch on his sensitive cock. 

“Please fuck me, Sannie.” Wooyoung begs, bucking up against San to chase the friction and raking his fingers over San’s back. “Want you inside me.” 

Wooyoung’s words go straight to San’s cock, and he nods, leaning down to kiss him again, their lips searing as he lets Wooyoung taste himself on San’s tongue. He pulls back with a bite to Wooyoung’s bottom lip, rewarded with a small whine from the younger. 

He leans back, his hands gripping Wooyoung’s hips and guiding him to flip over onto his stomach, raising his hips off the bed until he’s on his knees. Wooyoung’s head hangs low in anticipation while San drinks in the sight of Wooyoung in front of him, ass presented and waiting, his chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat over his skin.

“You’re gorgeous.” San tells him, leaning over to kiss between his shoulder blades and down his back. “So pretty, just for me.” He breathes against him. His cock rests between Wooyoung’s cheeks, rubbing against his hole, making him groan, pushing back against him. 

“Yes, a-all yours Sannie, just please- please fuck me.” The words tumble from Wooyoung’s lips, each more desperate than the last. 

San, once again unable to deny his boyfriend, kisses down Wooyoung’s back and over his ass. He brings his hands up to spread his cheeks, licking experimentally over Wooyoung’s hole. Wooyoung moans, his body jolting from just the light touch. San licks over it again before pressing his tongue against his hole, only the tip entering him before he pulls it out again to lick around the rim. 

“Ah- fuck, more Sannie, please.” Wooyoung sobs. 

San decides he’s teased him enough, and he presses his tongue in as deep as he can, pulling out to dive in again, sucking and fucking into him until he’s crying out with every wet thrust inside. Wooyoung’s pressing back against his face, his cries growing louder when San’s tongue isn’t enough, can’t reach deep enough inside him.

With one last lick on his slick hole San pulls back, leaning over to grab their bottle of lube from the bedside table. He coats his fingers with it, rubbing them together to warm it up before he teases his pointer finger around Wooyoung’s rim, adding to the spit left there. He presses it in to the first knuckle, Wooyoung groaning at the feeling. 

Eased by the lube, San slides his finger in and out of Wooyoung, adding a second when he feels loose enough. His lips find their way to Wooyoung’s skin again while he fingers him open, addicted to licking and biting at him anywhere he can reach, finding out every new sound he can pull from his boyfriend. By the time he’s three fingers deep in him, Wooyoung’s begging with every breath to be filled, and San’s own neglected cock is throbbing heavily between his legs.

Pulling his fingers out and hushing Wooyoung’s displeased whines, San slicks up his cock with more lube before lining up with Wooyoung’s hole. 

“Are you ready baby?” San asks, biting his lip in the effort to keep from ramming into Wooyoung. 

“Please.” Is all Wooyoung can get out, his voice broken and pleading. 

San’s hands rest on his hips as he pushes in, steadying himself and keeping Wooyoung from pushing back onto him. Wooyoung moans, deep and loud, as San sinks into him slowly, until his hips meet his ass and he stills. San gasps, his body on fire, Wooyoung hot and tight around him, stirring the tension pulled through his stomach as sparks ignite in his veins.

After catching his breath, at Wooyoung’s insistence, San starts to move, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back into him. He presses into him slowly, until the heat gets unbearable, and Wooyoung’s pushing against him, begging for more. 

San pulls out again before slamming into him, Wooyoung jolting forward with the force of it as a cry is torn from his lips. San doesn’t give him time to recover before he’s snapping his hips, moaning with how good Wooyoung feels around his cock as he fucks into him roughly, his fingers digging into his skin. 

“Fuck- fuck-  _ fuck! _ ” Wooyoung’s hands fist the sheets, “Your cock feels so good Sannie.”

San rams into him harder, the slap of skin on skin dirty and beyond arousing to both of them, San’s cock deep inside Wooyoung. San feels the threatening pull in his gut as pleasure burns through him, and he forces himself to pull out of Wooyoung, the younger sobbing at the empty feeling. 

“Turn around baby, want to see you.” San pants. 

On shaking limbs Wooyoung moves until he’s on his back, San’s cock twitching when he sees his parted lips, hooded eyes, and flushed skin. He crawls over him, watching Wooyoung’s face twist in pleasure as he pushes back into his tight hole. He picks up the pace he had before, the new angle making his cock ram into Wooyoung’s prostate, the blonde arching his back, screaming San’s name.

His hands run over Wooyoung’s skin, gripping anywhere he can as he fucks into him, every thrust making him see stars, fueling the boiling heat inside him. The sounds of Wooyoung’s moans and San’s grunts fill the room as both of them near their peaks. San kisses Wooyoung, their tongues tangling as they pant into each other’s mouths. 

“Feels so fucking good- so fucking deep and full,” Wooyoung gasps, “gonna come Sannie.” 

San thrusts long and hard into him, making him feel every inch of his cock fill him as he reaches between them to pump Wooyoung’s cock.

“God  _ yes  _ right there, fuck Sannie- fuck me, don’t stop!” Wooyoung babbles, his chest heaving. 

“Come for me, baby.” San growls. 

He thrusts into him, twisting his wrist on his cock, and Wooyoung comes with a cry, white roping over his chest and San’s hand. The sound of Wooyoung coming screaming his name, his back arched and mouth hanging open in pleasure as he tightens around San’s cock brings him to the edge. 

Wooyoung groans from the sensitivity, and San moves to pull out before Wooyoung stops him.

“Want you to come inside me.” Wooyoung tells him, looking into his eyes and biting his bottom lip, kissed red and swollen. 

San is helpless against him, his cock throbbing for release, and he snaps his hips forward again. Wooyoung gasps as San fucks him deeply, his thrusts erratic as he chases his own high. It takes only a few more thrusts before San drowns in the sea of pleasure, the tension in him snapping as he comes, painting Wooyoung’s walls. His vision sparks white and he groans, pumping his hips through it, Wooyoung moaning low in his throat. 

San stills inside Wooyoung, both of them panting and gasping for air, their skin covered with sweat. His heart beats loudly in his ears, and he pulls out of Wooyoung, making the other wince. San sits back, seeing his come leak out of Wooyoung’s puffy hole, threatening to make his spent dick twitch to life again. 

Instead, he lays next to Wooyoung, pulling him into his arms. Wooyoung lays limp, his limbs heavy and body lax. They lay in silence until their breathing returns to normal, the last remnants of their orgasms draining from them. 

“We should probably take a shower.” San speaks up. 

“But that would require getting up.” Wooyoung repeats his earlier words, making San roll his eyes with an amused smile.

“I’ll carry you, baby.” San offers, and Wooyoung grins.

They let themselves take one more minute to lay together, sweaty bodies tangled, snow covering the world outside the window.

“You know, you should always warm me up like this.” Wooyoung comments. 

San laughs, light and happy, and presses a kiss to Wooyoung’s smiling lips before jumping out of bed to start the shower. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Start a story with ‘I can’t wait any longer!’”
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this shameless smut, thank you for reading!


	16. Snow Covered Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG TRIGGER WARNING: Death, murder, blood, violence
> 
> Please read safely!!!

Wooyoung turns the heater up, still shivering as he drives down the snowy road, waiting for the car to fully warm up. He checks the time, frowning when it’s later than he wants it to be. The rest of his group of friends have already been at Yunho’s cabin for hours now, and he’s craving to be there with them, settled in the warmth of the cabin and San’s arms. His boyfriend had driven up without him earlier in the day, Wooyoung having told him to head up alone since he had to stay and work later before his weekend vacation. 

He’d texted San that he was leaving work and gotten on the road over an hour ago, only about 15 minutes left before he’s supposed to get there if he remembers correctly. He’s never been to the cabin before, but from Yunho’s description it sounds cozy and inviting, somewhere their group of eight can relax and have fun together away from the stress of life. Wooyoung thinks of San, his soft smile and loving hugs as he navigates the winding mountain roads, snow falling steadily around him. 

His thoughts are occupied with San and his friends, his head already at the cabin, his grumbling stomach reminding him that he hasn’t eaten, making him wonder what food they’ll have when he gets there, and he doesn’t notice the patch of ice layering the road. His tires hit the ice, his car starting to turn, and on reflex he tries to correct it with fumbling hands, spinning the wheel as his heart jumps to his throat, but it does nothing to stop the slide of the tires unable to find traction on the road. Everything moves in a blur as he tries to press on the brakes but the car speeds ahead regardless.

He’s helpless against the ice, his pulse racing as his car plummets off the road. He feels the car lurch, his stomach twisting with it, before there’s a crashing impact, his body slamming forward, followed by only darkness. 

  
  


When Wooyoung cracks his eyes open, he’s momentarily suspended in a bubble of numb disorientation, fighting through the haze in his head to make sense of his surroundings. It takes only a minute for the bubble to pop, and the memory of what happened slams into him, the crushing pain accompanying it. 

His heart immediately sounds loudly in his ears as his breathing shallows, and he whips his head around, seeing nothing but white outside the car, which is on an incline. With trembling hands he unbuckles his seatbelt, trying to take inventory of his injuries. His neck feels sore, his chest spiking with sharp pain when he breathes, but at least nothing feels broken, from what he can tell. He’s working on breathing as calmly as he can manage when he shifts his foot, white hot pain racing up his leg from his ankle, making him cry out.

The pain makes his chest tight with the panic flooding through him. Every breath he heaves only makes his aching chest hurt worse, but he can’t seem to stop gasping for air. Struggling for an ounce of rational thought, he grabs for his phone, barely able to lean over and reach it where it had fallen when he crashed. The plan to call for help, and the promise of hearing San’s voice, lets him breathe out a slight sigh of relief. 

He lifts it up, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and dread replacing any hope that had surfaced when he sees that the screen is shattered. He tries everything he can, but the screen remains black, nothing reviving the broken phone. He feels cold seeping through the warmth that he’d had before, unsure how long he’s been sitting in the crumpled car, pain pulsing through him. 

With his phone out of the question, his first instinct is to stay in the car and out of the cold until someone comes along and finds him, but he doubts he’d be spotted from inside the ditch he drove into, especially with the low visibility due to the snow. Not to mention his ankle swelling and throbbing more and more with each passing minute, and he’s not enthusiastic about finding out what will happen if he leaves it unattended. 

“Fuck!” He slams his hands into the steering wheel, breathing heavily, the movement making his chest sting in protest. 

He turns to push open the door, shoving on it until it creaks open enough for him to slip out. He manages to climb out of the wreck of his car, yelping when he puts weight on his ankle as his feet dig into the deep snow. Figuring he has no other options, he clambers up the slippery slope of the ditch, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, ending up at the roadside. He faintly sees the tracks his wheels left as he veered off the road, almost completely covered by snow already. Shame and regret swirl uncomfortably in his gut, if only he’d been more careful.

With a huff of resignation, Wooyoung starts walking down the road in the direction of the cabin, only his thin coat shielding him from the harsh wind. Every step is slowed and weighed down by the thick snow layering the ground, further hindered by his limp and tender ankle, and he desperately wishes with every piece of his being that someone will drive by soon and offer him help. 

The sky darkens to a dreary gray while he trudges along, his arms wrapped around himself to stave off the cold. He imagines it’s San’s arms instead, and that helps keep his feet moving. He doesn’t know how he keeps himself walking against the wind, body on autopilot as every step gets heavier and his feet, hands, and face fall numb. At least the snow sopping his shoes and pants helps numb the pain in his ankle, even a little. 

He’s still in disbelief that this is happening. This is something that you only read about happening, imagining it happening to you with disconnected horror, and then shrugging it off and moving on with your day, because surely it won’t. 

He doesn’t know how long he walks without another sign of life, and he can feel any composure he’d gathered drain from him along with his warmth. He needs to get to the cabin, needs to get to his friends and to San, and then to a hospital. He can’t stay out here, he was never supposed to be out here this long,  _ someone  _ was supposed to drive by and help him, and he briefly wonders when it started being so hard to breathe again. 

He doesn’t realize tears are falling down his face, burning his chilled skin, until a car comes crawling down the road, and he perks up, wiping the tears away before waving his arms wildly. He feels like he could sob with happiness when the driver seems to spot him, pulling off the road on the side that he’s on and stopping. 

Wooyoung blinks when he thinks he recognizes that car, squinting as he limps closer, the driver stepping out. He actually does let out a dry sob when he realizes it’s Seonghwa, and he’s never been more glad to see him in his life. He speeds up his steps, desperate for warmth, rest, and the comfort of his friend.

“Hwa! Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re here.” Wooyoung raises his voice over the whipping wind, his muscles aching as he hurries to reach Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything in response, but Wooyoung assumes he’s waiting for him to get closer before he does. Exhaustion has saturated every part of him, and he feels close to collapsing, but he’s almost there, just a few more steps and he’ll be in the safety of Seonghwa’s car. 

He tilts his head when he nears Seonghwa, and the other still doesn’t move, just stands and stares at Wooyoung through the falling snow. Wooyoung feels warning prickle through him, but he ignores it; this is one of his closest friends, and he’s here to help him, he’d come to find him. 

His blood runs colder than the harsh weather could ever make it when through the thick snow obscuring his vision, he makes out something held in one of Seonghwa’s hands. His eyes widen when he realizes that he’s holding a knife, and he freezes where he’s standing.

“Hwa, w-what are you doing?” Wooyoung’s voice quivers, from fear or the cold he’s not sure.

Seonghwa’s eyes are cold as he stares him down, his face expressionless. He takes a calculated step towards Wooyoung, who stumbles backwards. 

“Seonghwa, t-this isn’t funny, s-stop.” Wooyoung stutters, his thoughts a jumbled mess. 

Seonghwa takes another step forward, his grip tightening around the knife in his hand, and Wooyoung turns around and runs.

He runs as fast as he can along the edge of the road, his ankle screaming in pain, his heart pounding in his ears, heaving agonizing breaths. The snow takes hold of his feet with every step, like he’s running through quicksand, sinking further until he feels like he’s running in place, everything ablaze with hysteria. He can’t spare a glance behind him at what Seonghwa’s doing, panic pumping through his veins. 

He feels it when his legs give out underneath him, buckling as his feet slip on the frozen ground, and he collapses into the snow. He can’t catch his breath, scrambling to move, to get up and get away, swiping at the soft powder surrounding him. He can’t get his bearings, his head pounding as he hears the rushed crunch of footsteps in the snow approaching before there are rough hands turning him over.

He’s faced with Seonghwa’s hardened face, his head haloed by the falling snow dusting his hair. Seonghwa settles over Wooyoung, his weight digging painfully into him. Wooyoung feels dazed with his shallow breaths, weakly fighting against Seonghwa, who pins him down with a roll of his eyes.

Everything feels cold, frozen and unreal as Wooyoung watches Seonghwa grab the knife he’d laid in the snow, now ignoring Wooyoung’s ineffective struggles beneath him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Wooyoung whimpers, his words making Seonghwa’s eyes snap to him, and he regrets opening his mouth. 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know why, whore.” Seonghwa spits. Wooyoung squirms when he sees his face twisted into so much unrefined anger he’s almost unrecognizable. 

Seonghwa raises the knife, pressing the sharp tip against his stomach. Everything’s going too fast, his heart, his chest, Seonghwa as he looks down at him with dark eyes. This can’t be happening. 

“Please, I’ll give you anything you want, just l-let me go. Please.” Wooyoung feels tears slip from his eyes. 

“You can’t give me what I want.” Seonghwa responds, his voice lower than Wooyoung’s ever heard it, “San won’t love me while you’re around, because you fucking  _ stole  _ him from me.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen as the words sink into him like a branding iron searing through his skin. Seonghwa is doing this to him because he wants  _ San? _ Before Wooyoung can answer, Seonghwa’s gripping the knife with both hands, the pressure increasing.

“No! No, no, no you don’t have to do this, please!” Wooyoung cries, his hands clawing at any part of Seonghwa he can reach, but Seonghwa remains unbothered by his increasingly weak attempts. “He’ll never love you if you kill me!” Wooyoung screams, his last attempt, desperation flooding his words.

He sees a flash of rage in Seonghwa’s eyes, “Trust me, he’ll never find out.” He promises, and he drives the knife through Wooyoung’s skin, plunging it deep into his stomach.

Wooyoung stills, a choked off sound leaving his throat, and Seonghwa pulls the knife out before driving it back in again, and again. 

It’s like the world is moving in slow motion, like Wooyoung’s underwater, everything confusing and muddy, slightly off. 

Seonghwa pulls the knife out one more time, standing and taking it with him. Wooyoung stares up at him, watches his own blood drip off the tip of the knife. Clutching his stomach, he tries to sit up, forces his arms to move through the numbness creeping over him in an effort to crawl away. 

His head raises towards Seonghwa when he moves from where he’d been standing, and with a perfectly emotionless face, he kicks Wooyoung aside, the rough force making him crash down into the ditch running next to the road. He tumbles, his body limp, until he lands at the bottom with a thud, his chest erupting in pain when the air is forced out of his lungs. 

Laying on his back where he’d landed, unable to move, Wooyoung watches as Seonghwa stands at the top, staring down at him. The silence is cut by a shrill sound, and Wooyoung realizes that it’s Seonghwa’s phone ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before pressing on it and holding it up to his ear. 

“Hi Sannie.” Seonghwa answers. 

Wooyoung feels a lump in his throat, his dull senses lighting up at the mention of San. He’s so close, just on the other side of the line, and Wooyoung needs him, every aching fiber of him crying out for San. 

“San! Help!” Wooyoung uses every ounce of energy he has to yell out, but it’s all in vain, his chest constricting with the effort, his hoarse voice carried away by the wind. Seonghwa only blinks down at him.

“No, I haven’t found anything yet, I’m starting to get worried.” Seonghwa answers San, Wooyoung watching with disgust as his voice reflects genuine concern while his face remains stone cold, “I know, but I promise we’ll find him.” 

Wooyoung tries to scream again, tries to move, or get up, or do anything, but it only results in excruciating coughs ripped from his chest, his limbs too heavy to lift where they’re laid on the ground. 

Seonghwa stares at him as he ends the call with San and pockets his phone again. His only chance of being saved is gone. San is gone. Tears fall down Wooyoung’s face, but he can barely feel them. Without another word, Seonghwa turns and walks away. Wooyoung hears his car start up minutes later, the sound of the engine fading until it’s gone, and he’s alone. 

Everything’s dark, and he’s not sure if it’s his vision or the sky. He’s suffocated by the quiet that descends, the snow muffling every sound until he’s left in an endless abyss of white silence. 

He manages to curl onto his side before the pain hits him, crushing and all consuming. His stomach  _ burns,  _ his whole abdomen on fire, throbbing from within and enveloping him in agony. 

He’s sure that his vision is spotting, but he still looks down enough to see his stomach. There’s so much blood seeping into the snow around him, the red bright against it. He knows it’s too much, can feel the life draining from him, his head dizzy and the world swimming. He doesn’t have enough energy to be scared, an odd calm settled over him. He can’t feel the cold anymore. 

He doesn’t know when he closes his eyes, but he sees himself back at home with San. It was only this morning, both of them getting ready to leave. San made them breakfast, hugging him tightly when he’d finished getting dressed, his warm arms around his waist. He’d felt so safe. He can picture his smile, his eyes filled with love. He didn’t even kiss him goodbye before he walked out the door, in too much of a rush. He should’ve kissed him.

As he lets out his last breath, the only thought he has is that he’ll never see San again, before he falls fully into the unforgiving cold of the snow.

  
  
  


Two weeks later, San, Seonghwa, and the rest of Wooyoung’s friends and family are donned in black, their eyes red rimmed and their heads bowed as Wooyoung’s casket is lowered into the ground. 

The search party had eventually been able to dig Wooyoung out of the snow that nearly covered his whole body, but the investigation never revealed who killed him. 

San’s hand is held firmly in Seonghwa’s throughout the ceremony. When the carefully constructed dam in San breaks, heart wrenching sobs forced from his throat until it’s raw, he turns and curls against Seonghwa’s chest, fisting his jacket in his hands. Seonghwa holds onto him tightly, softly shushing his cries, and assuring him that he’ll always be there for him.  _ Always _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a horror story set in a snowy landscape”
> 
> This one was super dark too, but I really like horror as a genre, so I had fun writing this. That's also why it took a little longer to write, I really wanted to try to make it good.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, let me know what you thought!!


	17. All I Want For Christmas Is You

Wooyoung and Seonghwa have been inseparable since middle school. Ever since Wooyoung took a chance approaching shy, quiet Seonghwa, they’ve connected and only grown closer. Seonghwa grew into himself with Wooyoung by his side helping coax him out of his shell, and going into high school they had an unbreakable bond, a friendship filled with laughter, mutual teasing, and trust. 

In the flurry of activity that is the seniors trying to figure out their futures after high school while still studying for their classes and completing the heavy loads of homework, Seonghwa gets the news that he’d received a scholarship to go to Seoul University. He felt an indescribable mixture of excitement, pride, and dread settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Accepting the scholarship would mean leaving his hometown, which is hours away from Seoul, leaving his family, and leaving his best friend. 

Seonghwa ultimately takes the opportunity, deciding that it’s the best thing for his future and his dream career. Regardless, his heart still breaks when Wooyoung doesn’t get accepted into Seoul University and settles on a university in Busan. 

As far as Wooyoung knows, Seonghwa’s still unsure what he’s doing after high school, and Seonghwa makes the most of the last few months he has with Wooyoung, his friend still in blissful ignorance. He spends all of his free time with him, studies with him, spends endless nights at his house, and prepares himself to say goodbye. While he has no plans to end their friendship or cut all ties to Wooyoung in any way, he knows things will change once he’s gone.

He can’t find the courage to break the news to Wooyoung until only days before he’s supposed to get on a train and move hours away from everything he’s ever known. 

They’re settled in Seonghwa’s living room playing video games, his parents at work, and Seonghwa can’t keep his friend in the dark anymore, he deserves to know. Once the round ends, Seonghwa pauses the game and sets the controller aside, his hands shaking.

“Hey, you okay?” Wooyoung sets his own controller down, his attention on Seonghwa and his sudden odd behavior. 

“Yeah, I just, I have to tell you something.” Seonghwa starts. 

“Okay.” Wooyoung turns towards him fully, his eyes wide, expression open and attentive. 

“I got a scholarship to Seoul University,” Seonghwa gulps, taking a deep breath, “and I accepted it.”

Wooyoung stares at him, blinking, his face shifting to guarded confusion, “O-oh… when, uh, when are you supposed to leave?” 

“On Friday.” Seonghwa admits, avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze. 

“That’s only three days away!” Wooyoung says, his tone dripping with disbelief, and Seonghwa winces.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner, I’m sorry.. ” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Wooyoung scoffs. 

“Look,” Seonghwa meets Wooyoung’s eyes, “I just wanted to enjoy these last few weeks with you, that’s all.”

Wooyoung’s eyes are hard as they stare into Seonghwa’s, “It doesn’t matter, you should’ve told me.” His voice is cold. 

“I know, but aren’t you even a little bit happy for me?” Seonghwa counters. 

“Why would I be happy about my best friend moving away, Seonghwa!?” Wooyoung yells, anger written on his face, betrayal swimming in his eyes. 

“Because you know this is a huge opportunity for me to work towards doing what I’ve always wanted!” Seonghwa can’t keep his own voice rising to match Wooyoung’s, the tension suffocating between them. 

“Well I don’t know how you expect me to feel, especially not when you couldn’t be bothered to tell me until right before you leave!” Wooyoung’s words are filled with accusation, “And now we’re- everything between us is just gone, just like that! Over, in a couple days, and I didn’t even know!” Tears are pooling in Wooyoung’s eyes, and Seonghwa’s chest aches. 

“We can still be friends, Woo! We’ll keep in touch all the time, and I’ll come home for holidays!” Seonghwa’s drifted from anger to desperation. 

“Oh yeah, that’s really great, I’ll get to see you a couple times a year!” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset! I never wanted to stop being your friend, I thought you’d be happy for me! But you’re just being selfish.” Seonghwa tells himself not to falter when a flash of hurt passes over Wooyoung’s face before it’s gone. 

Wooyoung stands up, the lines of his body rigid and stiff with anger, “Well clearly you’re ready to move on, so don’t let me stop you.” 

“Woo stop!” Seonghwa jumps up to stop Wooyoung as he moves towards the front door. 

Wooyoung pauses, turning his head to look back at him, “Have a good life, Seonghwa.” He says, low and quiet, and then he’s gone. 

Seonghwa wonders if it should hurt this bad to let him go. 

  
  


He finds that leaving home for Seoul is more bitter than sweet, his excitement dampened by the fact that he hasn’t talked to Wooyoung since the day he told him he was leaving. Seonghwa doesn’t know whether to feel outraged with his friend for refusing to understand where he’s coming from, or deserving, for waiting until the last second to inadvertently end their friendship. 

He moves to Seoul looking forward to the future, but unable to shake the feeling that he’d left his heart back at home with Wooyoung. 

  
  


The first couple months of college are a whirlwind for Seonghwa, filled with adjusting to the new city, his classes and workload. He finds he easily becomes friends with his roommate Hongjoong, the smaller boy hard working and friendly. They don’t see much of each other the first few weeks, both of them busy with classes, but on the occasion that Seonghwa has some down time to spend with him, he thoroughly enjoys it. He ignores the fact that there aren’t very many days that he doesn’t miss Wooyoung’s smile and teasing giggle. 

He spends Christmas with Hongjoong, neither of them with a significant other to celebrate it with. Seonghwa feels the pull of longing, seeing all of the happy couples walk hand and hand throughout the days leading up to Christmas. 

He wishes he felt comfortable enough to confide in Hongjoong, to get it off his chest that it feels wrong to celebrate Christmas without Wooyoung by his side, but he can’t even explain the feeling to himself. He spends the holiday remembering all the Christmases he spent with Wooyoung and pretending it doesn't hurt as much as it does that he’s gone.

After the holidays are over, time passes faster than Seonghwa realizes it. The months fly by, and before he knows it he’s finished with his first year of college, the second fast approaching. He’s content at school, he works hard to do well in his classes, Hongjoong remains his roommate when they’re both Sophomores, and Seonghwa finds a small group of friends that he fits into effortlessly. 

While he loves the friends that he makes, he still feels a hole eat away at him as the days go by, an ache to have someone to call his, to be held and kissed and cherished. When he can’t deny the feeling anymore, he tries going on dates. There are various girls in his classes that he knows are interested in him, and time after time he goes through the process of asking one of them out, taking them to dinner or a movie, feeling no connection the whole night, and letting them down easy. His frustration grows every time it happens, and he wonders what problems exist within him that make it so he can’t find someone as easy as most other people seem to be able to. 

That’s why a year later, he finds himself alone on Christmas Eve, his friends offering for him to hang out with them, but he’d opted to go on a walk to clear his head, not quite enjoying the holiday the same way since he left home.

There’s snow gently falling, and he tugs his coat a little tighter around himself as he walks through campus. The Christmas decorations and advertisements for sales and presents for your significant other mock him on store windows, and he tries to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. He’s not thinking about anything in particular, his mind wandering aimlessly as his eyes scan the students around him going about their days, but when he glances further to the side he stops dead in his tracks. 

He sees Wooyoung walking nearby, he’d be able to spot him in any crowd, even after not seeing him for over a year. His heart is suddenly beating too quickly, and he’s at a loss for what he should do. He doesn’t have much time to contemplate it when Wooyoung’s head turns, and he sees Seonghwa, their eyes meeting as Wooyoung’s widen. There’s a brief moment where neither of them dare to move, students walking by chatting happily, but the two of them locked in a battle to see who will break first. 

It turns out to be Wooyoung, the younger looking away to check that he won’t run into anyone before he walks up to Seonghwa, his face unreadable. Seonghwa has to remind himself that Wooyoung used to be his best friend, the person he was the most comfortable around in the world, but it does nothing to deter the nerves crawling up his spine.

“Hi..” Wooyoung says finally, looking so small it makes Seonghwa’s heart hurt. 

“H-Hey,” Seonghwa answers, cringing at his own awkwardness, “what are you uh, doing here?” 

Wooyoung cracks a small smile, making Seonghwa relax his shoulders the slightest bit, “I go to school here now. I applied again and got accepted.” 

“Oh. Well that’s- that’s great!” Seonghwa says, unsure of where to take the conversation. 

In the past year he’d thought of an infinity of things he’d like to say to Wooyoung, but now that his old friend is standing here in front of him, watching him with hesitance, his mind is completely blank. 

“Yeah…” Wooyoung nods, seemingly in the same state of uncertainty as Seonghwa. 

“Do you maybe want to go to a cafe or something and catch up? It’s on me.” Seonghwa offers. 

He doesn’t have it in him to say hello to what used to be his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, after not talking to him for a year, and then let him walk off like they don’t have years of a past between them.

“Yeah sure, that sounds good.” The small smile is on Wooyoung’s lips again, and Seonghwa feels the need to make him smile wider. 

Seonghwa nods, and they walk in the direction of the nearest coffee shop together. Neither of them say anything, both lost in their thoughts, saving the conversation for when they get there. It’s a short walk before Seonghwa’s opening the door for Wooyoung to walk in the small cafe, stepping in after him and being enveloped by the warmth, glad to be out of the cold. 

They order their drinks and find an empty table, sitting down and getting settled. There’s a pause where they both sip at their drinks, looking anywhere but at each other, a heavy layer of awkwardness hanging over them. It makes sadness creep into Seonghwa’s mind. While he knows it’s to be expected in their situation, he still can’t help but feel disheartened; in all his years of knowing Wooyoung, he’s never once felt awkward around him. 

The thought makes him determined to break the silence, “So… what have you been up to?” 

It’s almost definitely the lamest opening he can come up with, but he doesn’t have time to berate himself too much, because it’s enough to spark small talk between them. They share updates about the past year, filling each other in on their majors, their classes, and hobbies. 

Seonghwa smiles when Wooyoung tells him he’s studying dance, knowing it's always been his dream, and his gift. The more they talk, the more Seonghwa gets the feeling that he’s meeting his best friend for the first time all over again. It’s a strange blend of familiar and unfamiliar that Seonghwa doesn’t doesn’t know what to do with. 

“Can, can I ask you something?” Seonghwa dares breaking the fragile comfort they’ve built up by refusing to address the inevitable elephant in the room. 

“Yeah, sure.” Wooyoung’s features fall a little more serious. 

Seonghwa has a million questions he wants to ask, but there’s one that’s been plaguing the forefront of his mind since he saw Wooyoung walking by on campus. 

“Why- I mean, not that you have an obligation to, of course, but if you’ve been here since the Fall, why didn’t you say anything?” Seonghwa knows Wooyoung doesn’t owe him anything, but he can’t help the hurt that seeps through him that he didn’t tell him he got into the school. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face, but he guesses that it does based on the look of shame that passes over Wooyoung. 

“I wanted to, trust me. I was… I was just scared, I guess. I was kind of really awful to you before you left, I was selfish, and I’ve wanted to say something ever since then, but I guess I didn’t know if you’d even want to see me anymore. I should’ve tried, and I’m sorry.” Wooyoung finishes, staring down at the cup in his hands. 

“Wooyoung, it’s okay.” Seonghwa’s words make the younger look up, eyes filled with hope. 

While it could’ve been a reflex to erase the guilt that Seonghwa doesn’t like to see written over Wooyoung, he realizes that he does mean it. He’s not mad at Wooyoung, any animosity towards him for their fight before he left having dissipated a long time ago, a deep feeling of missing his best friend taking its place. 

“It’s okay.” He says again, reminding Wooyoung or himself he’s not sure, “You don’t owe me anything, I was just curious.” 

“But I do owe you something.” Wooyoung insists, “I owe you an apology, and an explanation.”

Seonghwa nods for him to continue, sensing that the younger won’t back down on this, and he can’t deny that he’s interested in what Wooyoung wants to say, eager to clear the air between them after so long. 

“When you told me you were leaving, I was afraid, I was so scared of losing you, so I lashed out. I know it doesn’t really make sense, but I was just surprised, and upset, and I know that’s no excuse for taking my feelings out on you like that, but you’ve always meant everything to me, and I thought you’d just go off to college in the big city and forget all about me. I was so mad at myself for the way I felt, for wanting to hold you back and be selfish. I thought maybe it’d be easier if we just hated each other instead.” Wooyoung pauses, letting out a humorless chuckle, “Wow, I said I’d give you an explanation, but I feel like I’m just making everything more confusing.” 

“No, it’s okay, I think I get it.” Seonghwa feels a small smile tug at his lips, “I understood why you were upset, even if it came out kinda wrong at the time. I hated leaving you, and maybe being mad at you was easier.” 

There’s another lull in the conversation, and Seonghwa guesses both of their heads are in the past.

“You know,” Wooyoung’s voice is soft as he brings Seonghwa’s attention back to him, “I might’ve been too scared to reach out to you when I got here, but I was really glad to see you today.” He pauses, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” Seonghwa responds without missing a beat. 

Seonghwa looks into Wooyoung’s brown eyes, words fallen away between them, but the awkwardness fell with it, leaving only comfortable warmth as they both smile softly. 

“Do you have any big plans for tomorrow?” Wooyoung asks, and it takes a minute for Seonghwa to remember the significance of the next day.

“Oh, no, my roommate’s going to spend it with his boyfriend, so..” Seonghwa shrugs. 

“Do you want to get together again and do something?” Wooyoung looks nervous, his voice hesitant. 

“I would love to.” Seonghwa tells him, etching Wooyoung’s relieved smile into his memory. He really had missed him.

  
  


The next day, as Seonghwa gets ready to meet Wooyoung at the time they’d agreed on, he thinks this is the first time it’s really started to feel like Christmas to him since he left home. 

Getting to the place on campus they’d planned and seeing Wooyoung already there waiting for him, drowning in a thick winter coat, makes Seonghwa think he could get used to this. He doesn’t know if he could go back to ignoring him, and he doesn’t want to.

“Hey.” Wooyoung smiles in greeting.

“Hi,” Seonghwa mirrors his smile, “what do you want to do today?” 

Wooyoung’s smile widens, “Come on, I have an idea.” He nods his head, and Seonghwa walks next to him, following his lead. 

They walk through campus, the falling snow and smiling couples forming a picture perfect Christmas day. They talk about topics they didn’t get to the day before, falling into conversation so easily it’s almost like they never spent any time apart. 

When Wooyoung leads them to their destination just outside of campus, Seonghwa feels his cheeks flush at what he has planned for them. A large ice rink is in front of them, an activity mainly reserved for families or couples, but Seonghwa shakes off the thought. They’re friends, and friends do stuff like this all the time.

“Is this okay?” Wooyoung asks, seeing Seonghwa eye up the ice rink. 

“It’s perfect.” Seonghwa smiles. 

Seeming almost giddy, Wooyoung leads them through renting skates and exchanging them for their shoes. When they step on the ice, Wooyoung starts gliding across it gracefully, but Seonghwa stumbles, not having skated in years. Luckily Wooyoung’s there to catch him, and they both giggle while Wooyoung helps him until he’s more steady on his feet. They skate around the rink, their hands bumping occasionally, talking and enjoying the crisp air and beautiful scenery. 

After longer than Seonghwa realizes it’s been, they stop at the outside of the rink for a breather, leaning their elbows on the edge and looking out at the snow. Somewhere in the back of Seonghwa’s mind is the thought that even if he’d connected with any of the girls he took out enough to be dating them, he’d still choose to be here with Wooyoung on Christmas. 

“Seonghwa, there’s something I want to tell you.” Wooyoung speaks up, and Seonghwa backs up from the ledge to turn towards him, Wooyoung doing the same. 

“Okay.” Seonghwa agrees, wondering what’s making him look so timid.

“Yesterday, what I told you wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.” Wooyoung says. Seonghwa sifts through his memories of what Wooyoung said at the cafe the day before, trying to decipher what he’s referring to. He stays quiet, waiting for Wooyoung to continue. 

“I got upset that you were leaving for all those reasons I said, but the main reason I reacted the way I did is because I… I was in love with you.” Wooyoung takes a deep breath, “I was in love with you, Seonghwa, and I think I still am.” 

Seonghwa suddenly feels too hot despite the cold, his mind both a raging storm of thoughts and completely blank. 

“You… what?” 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just was thinking about it all night, and I decided that I want to tell you the truth. You deserve at least that, after everything.” Wooyoung says, “I just really hope we can be friends again, I’ll be more than happy with that.” 

Wooyoung now seems sure, calm and composed, whereas Seonghwa feels like a puddle on the ice, surprise and shock being the only emotions that are making their way through the chaos in his head. 

Their whole friendship, the idea of them becoming more never occurred to Seonghwa, but now that Wooyoung’s standing in front of him, bearing his heart for him after all this time, he can’t find it in him to feel that it’s wrong. 

He looks at Wooyoung, who looks back up at him, snow stuck to his hair, a small smile against honey skin, bathed by the white surrounding them, and it’s like everything snaps into place. Why he couldn’t find the feeling he was searching for with anyone else; because it’s been with Wooyoung all this time, just waiting for him to see it.

He brings his hand up to cup Wooyoung’s face, his touch light until Wooyoung leans into it, watching him with wide eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Seonghwa asks. 

Wooyoung’s breath hitches, and he nods. 

Seonghwa leans in, his eyes slipping closed, his heart hammering in his chest. When their lips touch it’s like coming home after being gone for a long time, the feeling that this is where he’s meant to be all along. 

He presses more firmly against Wooyoung, bringing his other hand to the back of his neck. Seonghwa deepens the kiss, humming in his chest at the feeling. Wooyoung tastes faintly like mint, and something else that’s solely  _ him _ , warm and perfect and addicting. Seonghwa’s heart feels full to bursting as they learn each other with their lips and tongues, the only thing between them that’s still unfamiliar. Seonghwa gets the feeling that it won’t be that way for long. 

They part with wide smiles, Seonghwa feeling like he’s floating, and he knows it has nothing to do with the fact that they’re skating on ice. The thought brings him back to their surroundings, his cheeks heating as he realizes how many people are skating by with mildly curious glances thrown their way. He looks back at Wooyoung, who’s watching him with so much fondness it makes his knees feel weak. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Wooyoung admits.

“I hope it was worth the wait.” Seonghwa teases. 

“God, you have no idea.” Wooyoung answers, his intensity making Seonghwa blush further. 

“Should we go?” Seonghwa gestures towards the people skating by them. 

Wooyoung nods and leads the way. As they start skating again Seonghwa grabs Wooyoung’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Wooyoung smiles at him, the wide, toothy grin that Seonghwa had missed countless times, before he squeezes his hand and pulls him along.

Seonghwa spends the rest of the day with Wooyoung, reluctant to be away from his side when he’d just gotten him back. The full, warm feeling in his chest doesn’t go away, and he hopes it never does. Every time he wraps his arms around Wooyoung, or leans over to capture his lips, he’s in awe all over again that he gets to, no longer surprised by how right it feels to do so. 

He has no doubt that with Wooyoung is the best way he could ever celebrate Christmas, and he hopes with everything in him that he’ll never have to celebrate it without him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “How would your favorite character celebrate Christmas/a festive holiday?” 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> (Also congrats to Ateez for absolutely killing the Immortal Songs stage again, they'll always be our kings of kings.)


	18. The Red Ornament

The red ornament hangs idly on the Christmas tree in the living room, having been there since mid December, watching the eight men who live there go about their days. It watches them come and go, observing their interactions as far as it can see. One day, they’d woken up and sat around the table, telling each other Merry Christmas before they changed and left like they do nearly every day. 

After a quiet day, the eight men return home, their clothes sticking to them and their hair damp. Their shoulders sag, dragging their feet as if they’re heavy with exhaustion. Once they go one by one into certain rooms, the sound of running water starting and eventually stopping, they seem more lively, their eyes brighter.

One of the taller ones with silver hair offers to make dinner for the others, stating that they shouldn’t order food on Christmas. The others agree before leaving him to it, besides one with pink hair and a smaller one with black hair. They stick around, suggesting they help the silver haired one, who accepts and gives them both jobs to do. 

The silver haired boy works hard, the amount of food he makes great, and the other two stay on task some of the time. The rest of the time is spent with them rough housing, joking and teasing the silver haired one, who seems torn between chastising them and hiding a smile. Eventually, the meal is ready, and the silver haired one calls the rest of them to join him at the table. Once they’re seated, there’s only seven. The silver haired boy seems to notice this as well. 

“Where’s Hongjoong?” He asks the other six, who shrug.

“He probably has his headphones on and didn’t hear you.” The tall, black haired boy offers. 

The silver haired one nods in agreement, standing from the table and disappearing behind a door, reappearing moments later with the short, brown haired boy in tow. The eight of them sit around the table, digging into the food like they’re starving, each expressing their appreciation and thanks to the silver haired boy, who smiles. 

“Hey what about us? We helped.” The small black haired boy whines. 

“Not exactly sure you could call it helping, Woo.” The silver haired one teases, the others in the group chuckling. 

The black haired one pouts, and the pink haired boy pulls him in for a hug, patting his head, and the other seems appeased when he releases him, a smile on his face as he eats. 

The food disappears quickly, each eating their fill and going back for more. The short brown haired boy tends to feed the others more, his mouth held slightly open, while the tall one with brown hair shaved at the sides makes the others laugh loudly throughout the meal. The small silver haired boy and red haired one seem lost in conversation together more often than not. Once the food is gone, they separate again after agreeing to watch a movie later on in the night. 

The short brown haired one goes back into the room he’d previously been fetched out of, and the tall brown haired one and red haired one go through their own doors, closing them behind them. The one that had cooked the meal starts collecting the plates and other dishes, dropping them into the sink. The tall black haired one stays to help him, which he accepts with a smile, and the two of them clean up quietly, working well around each other. 

The small silver haired boy, the pink haired one, and the small black haired one move to the living room, closer to the tree, and turn on the tv. They each grab controllers, getting immersed in a game, the screen flashing brightly. The sounds filter through the room, mixed with the triumphant or frustrated words of the boys. At one point the short brown haired one comes out of his room, exchanging a few words with the others before leaving out the door they’d all come in through earlier in the day. 

The three boys are occupied by their game as the night progresses, until the short brown haired one comes back carrying bags in his hands. The rest of them gather in the living room shortly after, some grabbing food out of the contents of the bags while others focus on changing what’s on the tv. They discuss what movie to play, bickering about the genre and debating until they finally reach an agreement that they all more or less seem happy with. 

They all get settled on the two large couches as the sounds of the movie start to play through the room, eating the snacks and commenting on the movie every now and then. Once they’ve gone through the snacks, each of them shifts to get more comfortable. 

The small black haired one lays his head on the pink haired one’s lap, who in turns starts to run his fingers through the other’s dark hair. The small black haired boy’s feet end up on the taller silver haired one’s lap, whose arm is around the short brown haired one’s shoulders, his brown hair splayed over the taller one’s shoulder where his head is laid. The other four lounge on the second couch in a mass of limbs, grumbling until they fit themselves snugly. 

None of them move much for the rest of the movie, each seeming content where they are. The short brown haired one falls asleep against the tall silver haired one almost immediately. When the movie ends, the tall silver haired one clicks the tv off before ushering a droopy eyed small brown haired boy to bed, closing the door behind them after offering their goodnights to the others. The four still occupying the couch together untangle, each shuffling to their own rooms with yawns. The only two remaining are the small black haired one, who sits up, and the pink haired one, who turns towards the other. 

They don’t say anything, just look at each other, the pink haired one running his hand through the black haired one’s again, but this time it ends up at the back of his neck, and he pulls him closer to connect their lips. The black haired one seems to melt into the other, moving closer and reaching out to wrap his arms around him. Their lips move against each other almost lazily, open mouthed and clearly familiar. They eventually part, the pink haired one leaning in to peck the other’s lips one more time before they sit back with warm smiles. 

“You know we’re going to have to tell them soon.” The black haired one says. 

The pink haired one grabs the other’s hand, intertwining their fingers and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles, “I know. We will baby, but let’s just enjoy tonight first.”

The black haired one nods, and they meet in a sweet kiss again, until their movements grow more firm, more seeking, their tongues meeting.

“You know,” the pink haired boy leaves just enough space between them to speak against the other’s lips, his voice low, a smirk on his face, “I asked Yunho to stay with Mingi tonight so I can give you your Christmas present.” 

The black haired one giggles, kissing him again roughly. He straddles the pink haired one’s lap, the pink haired one gripping his thighs, the other letting out a low groan. The pink haired boy stands, the black haired one wrapping his legs more firmly around him as he walks towards one of the doors. Their lips stay pressed together the whole way while they stumble into the room. 

Once the pair leaves, the living room is plunged into silence again, the twinkling Christmas tree lighting up the space in bright colors. After the eventful day, the boys are all resting, or at least most of them are, and just like that another Christmas is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Write a story from the point of view of festive decorations watching a family celebrate”
> 
> I know this one's a little different, but I thought it turned out cute, haha
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Also pink hair San!!!!


	19. Toys

Yunho is settled on the edge of awake and asleep, San’s head resting on his bare chest, his arm around his waist. He pulls the smaller closer, the smell of his shampoo meeting him, making him smile. Yunho’s been having the best Christmas Eve he can remember having, this being the first one he’s celebrated since he met San. He couldn’t be more grateful for the boy in his arms. There’s only one other Christmas Eve that stands out in his mind. 

“Whatcha thinkin about?” San pulls Yunho from his thoughts, resting his chin on his arms and looking up at him. 

“Just about how lucky I am to have you.” 

San’s dimpled smile makes Yunho’s heart flutter, the feeling only worsened as the younger blushes, the dust of pink endearingly cute. San leans forward to press his lips against Yunho’s, the light touch lighting him up. 

“Anything else?” San asks, moving down to rest on his arms again. 

“I guess I was thinking about this one Christmas Eve when I was a kid.” Yunho shrugs. 

“What happened?” San nestles closer to him, shuffling to get more comfortable, almost like a kid getting ready to be told a story, and Yunho thinks this can’t be healthy for his heart. 

Yunho pauses, what did happen? He remembers, but the story sounds unbelievable even to him. 

“Okay but you have to promise not to laugh at me.” Yunho runs a hand through San’s dark hair. 

“Of course baby,” San pauses, seeming unsure, “is it bad?” 

“No, just weird I guess.” Yunho chuckles, making San relax fully against him. San watches him with wide eyes, waiting for him to continue. 

“When I was a kid, on Christmas Eve, my toys came to life.” He says it all in one breath, gauging San’s reaction. 

San blinks up at him, “Oh, well that’s-uh, not what I was expecting.” He can’t help but giggle.

“Hey I’m serious!” Yunho slaps him playfully, making him laugh harder. 

San eventually quiets, his eyes still shining with amusement, “Okay okay, tell me about it?” 

In the otherwise stillness of their apartment, Yunho’s arms wound around San, he dives into the story that he’s thought about every Christmas Eve since it happened.

  
  


Six year old Yunho was laying in his bed, trying to keep his eyes closed and sleep, despite the jitters that are unique to Christmas Eve night. He was thinking about the different toys he could get the next morning, imagining himself playing with them, a smile on his face. 

His eyes snapped open when he heard loud clangs come from downstairs, the commotion growing louder by the second. His curiosity prompted him to slip out of bed and creep out of his room. His mom had warned him that if he didn’t stay in bed and go to sleep he wouldn’t get his toys, but he had to see where the noises were coming from. 

He tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs, turning the corner and freezing, a gasp leaving his lips. 

Shredded wrapping paper was strewn all over the living room around the Christmas tree, and among the wreckage he could see little objects moving. He took a step closer, watching as he saw that the objects were the toys meant to be his presents, moving of their own accord.

His mouth hanging open in awe, he stepped even further into the room. He could see hot wheels cars and toy trucks driving around the living room, wrapping paper crinkling under their wheels. There were different action figures running and jumping on the furniture, trying to shoot the toy guns they came with. 

With an elated giggle, six year old Yunho moved to the middle of the living room and sat down in the middle, letting the toys run and drive circles around him, his laughter growing louder with glee. He didn’t even have the mind to hope his mom wouldn’t punish him, thinking he opened his presents early, he was so enthralled by the marvel before him. 

“I must’ve stayed down there for  _ hours.  _ It was so amazing.” Yunho wraps up his story, San still listening intently. 

“So what ended up happening to the toys?” San asks, and Yunho’s almost certain he’s just entertaining him at this point. 

“I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, and then I woke up in my bed the next morning. The presents were all wrapped again.” Yunho recalls the disappointment he’d felt when his toys were back to being regular toys.

“And you… don’t think it was a dream?” San checks hesitantly. 

“I don’t know, it probably was. It just seemed so real, there was so much detail, and I’ve never forgotten it.” 

“Hey, maybe it wasn’t a dream, you never know. Weird stuff happens all the time.” San answers, making Yunho chuckle at his boyfriend’s attempts to validate his strange memory.

“But tonight beats that night as my favorite Christmas Eve.” Yunho adds.

“Oh yeah? I’m honored.” San’s smile borders on smug. 

Yunho smiles in return, grabbing San’s face to pull him up and connect their lips. San shifts so he’s laying over him, their bodies pressed together, making sparks fire through Yunho. After losing himself to the feeling, he breaks the kiss to look at San, forgetting all about the story he told, finding all the magic he needs in San’s eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “A child walks downstairs and sees their toys have come to life”
> 
>   
> This was just a cute little silly prompt, not my favorite I've ever written, but it's short and sweet
> 
> I've actually decided that I'm not going to finish all the days of the advent calendar, so after this one I'll post one more on Christmas Eve. I hate to not finish it, but I don't really like the other prompts that much anyways or have interesting ideas for them, so I'd rather use my time making this last one as good as I can.
> 
> I'm really excited about the one coming up, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading!


	20. Christmas Dinner

Seonghwa wakes up on Christmas Eve, his king size bed stretching out to the right of him, most of the sheets untouched. He shuts off his alarm and climbs out of bed, sliding on his sandals and leaving the room. He shuffles down the hallway, the air cold around him as he passes by his maid, who offers him a small bow before going into his room to tidy it. Not that there’s much to do, he rarely makes a mess, but it can never be too clean.

He continues through the almost maze like house, walking down the stairs and into the kitchen. His chef greets him the same way his maid had, no words exchanged between the two. He eats his breakfast at the bar, accompanied by the quiet, the only sound aside from the scraping of his plate is his chef cleaning up the kitchen. Once he’s done, he makes the long trek back towards his room to take a shower and get dressed. 

Donned in a crisp black and white suit, dark hair slicked back, Seonghwa leaves the house, the biting winter air meeting him when he walks out the door. While he could have his driver take him to work, he’d decided to walk, feeling the occasional need for a little extra fresh air nudging him. 

He walks by students on their way to school, others wearing similar suits to his, many chatting on the phone, but he doesn’t pay any of them any mind. He passes a few people sitting on the concrete, blankets on their shoulders, a cup in front of them and a sign in their hands. He holds his head higher as he strolls past them. 

Nearing the building his office is in, Seonghwa starts walking across the crosswalk, his phone buzzing in his pocket when he steps into the street. He checks the screen, his steps not faltering, until his phone flies out of his hand with the impact of another person running into him, both of them tumbling to the ground. He barely has time to register what’s happening before a car is barreling through the crosswalk directly where he was standing, showing no signs of stopping or slowing. 

He whips his head around to see who’d pushed him out of the way. It’s a man he’s seen on the streets sometimes, never begging, but sleeping outside nonetheless. They’re both panting as they eye each other up. Seonghwa pulls himself to his feet, the other doing the same. 

The boy’s not much shorter than Seonghwa, his blue hair coming up to Seonghwa’s ear, but the way his skin hugs his bones tightly makes him appear much smaller. There’s paint splattered over his ragged clothes, and Seonghwa has to catch himself before he takes a step away from him. It takes another moment before it hits Seonghwa that the blue haired boy in front of him just saved his life. 

“Uh, thank you.” Seonghwa manages, straightening his jacket and dusting himself off. 

He spots his phone on the ground, leaning over and picking it up. He doesn’t bat an eye when he turns it over and sees that the screen is shattered, he’ll just have to buy a new one. When he faces the other boy again, he’s still silently staring at him, his features guarded. 

“Don’t mention it.” The boy deadpans, turning on his heel to walk away.

“Wait!” Seonghwa calls on instinct, the other stopping but not turning around, “What’s your name?” 

Seonghwa couldn’t honestly explain why he cares about what the boy who lives on the street’s name is, but he did just save his life, afterall. 

“Hongjoong.” The blue haired boy states, sharp and quick. Seonghwa nods, but he knows Hongjoong can’t see it.

“My name is Seong-”

Hongjoong spins back around, stepping towards Seonghwa, “Oh I know exactly who you are,  _ Park Seonghwa _ .” he spits his name out like it’s poison on his tongue. 

Seonghwa chooses to ignore his remark and the venom in his voice, “Is there some way I can thank you for saving me?” 

“No, I don’t want anything from you.” Hongjoong answers, hostility wound around him.

“Please, at least let me make you dinner tonight, just as a thank you.” Seonghwa tries, the idea seeming just harmless yet decent enough. 

Hongjoong’s expression shifts to surprise, and Seonghwa can’t say he blames him. Under normal circumstances he would never allow someone like him into his house, but he hates to be in anyone’s debt.

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, running them over him, looking him up and down, “No thanks.”

Seonghwa thinks Hongjoong’s previous surprise is nothing compared to the shock that rushes over him. 

“Wait, so you… don’t want a free home cooked meal?” 

“Nope.” Hongjoong dismisses, popping the p, before walking away from Seonghwa again.

Seonghwa moves without thinking, rushing to catch up to the smaller boy, “But you- I’ve seen you around here before, you’re, homeless aren’t you?” Seonghwa can feel his disbelief multiply every second he’s around Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong just shrugs, still staring straight ahead as he walks, “I couch surf when I can.” 

“Well I’m offering for you to spend the evening at my house, and if you know me, then you know where that is. Why would you turn that down?” 

“Because I’m not some charity case.” Hongjoong stops to answer, his eyes firm, almost challenging as they stare into Seonghwa’s before he continues walking without waiting for Seonghwa to answer. 

“I’m just trying to thank you, why won’t you let me?” Seonghwa doesn’t mean to raise his voice, calling after Hongjoong as he trails after him, but every nonsense word Hongjoong says drives frustration deeper into him. 

“I just don’t want anything from you. I know what you’ve done to get your money, and I don’t want any part of it.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t know exactly what Hongjoong’s referring to, but he can hazard a couple guesses. 

He feels anger etch its way onto his face the same way it embeds in his chest, and he reaches out, grabbing Hongjoong’s arm to stop him from walking further, “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Sorry to disappoint, rich boy. Not my fault no one’s ever told you no before.” Hongjoong doesn’t back down, only getting further into Seonghwa’s space, and Seonghwa refuses to let on how close to home his words hit. 

“Look, it seems like you haven’t eaten a real meal in weeks, just let me thank you properly.” Seonghwa’s surprised by his own adamance, but all he knows is that Hongjoong’s stubbornness is rubbing on every one of his nerves, and he won’t let him win.

“Don’t act like you suddenly care about me and if I eat or not.” Hongjoong bites.

Seonghwa can’t blame his doubt regarding his motivations, but he finds it unimportant. “Will you just stop being stubborn for two seconds and let me make you dinner?” He almost tacks a please on the end, but he has enough pride left to restrain.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bark back a snarky response, his shoulders dropping. “Fine, I’ll have dinner with you. But only because I’m starving and my friend skipped town, not because I give a shit about your bruised ego.” 

Seonghwa gives Hongjoong his address, disregarding the younger’s grumbles about already knowing where he lives. They plan for him to come at six in the evening, and they part with the tension between them colder than the air around them. 

  
  


Seonghwa trudges the rest of the way to work, the familiar path now feeling somehow different after his interaction with Hongjoong. He walks in the towering building, nodding to various coworkers as he makes his way up the elevator and to his office. He settles at his desk, looking over what he needs to get done. As the day goes by, he struggles to delve into his work, his mind fighting against him to stray towards the strange boy with blue hair. 

After hours of far less productive work than he’d like, he sits back in his chair, turning to look out the large window overlooking the city. He briefly wonders, in all of the buildings that he looks down on, where Hongjoong is among them. With a frustrated sigh he shoves the thought aside and turns back towards his computer screen.

  
  


While he would normally stay at the office late into the night, today Seonghwa leaves at the same time as the rest of the building, leaving time for him to have dinner with Hongjoong. As he makes his way back through the bustling streets, he tries to decipher his feelings towards his impending dinner. The main feeling he can identify is the urge to get it over with so he can rid himself of whatever guilt or debt has been weighing on him since this morning. 

He’d told his chef what time they’re planning on having dinner, so Seonghwa’s met with him bustling around the kitchen when he walks in the door. He finds it strange, to have so much time left in the day when he gets home. After taking off his jacket he goes into his home office, set on catching up on a portion of the work he’d been too distracted to get to today. That occupies his time until he hears a knock at the front door and he checks the clock to see that it’s already past six. 

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbow, running a hand through his hair and walking out of his office. He reaches the front door just as the maid who let Hongjoong in the house offers to take his coat, as is customary, before sputtering off when she realizes Hongjoong doesn’t have one. Seonghwa dismisses her with a wave of his hand and she bows, blushing, before scrambling into the kitchen, presumably to help finish setting the table for their meal. 

“Thank you for coming.” Seonghwa addresses Hongjoong. 

“I said I would.” Hongjoong states. 

Seonghwa can’t help but notice how utterly out of place Hongjoong looks, standing on the spotless floors of Seonghwa’s expansive house, among the modern and sleek furniture, next to Seonghwa, in his slacks and black button up shirt. In contrast, Hongjoong’s wearing jeans with holes ripped through them and a striped long sleeve, different colors of paint splattered over the fabric. His hair is the most colorful thing in the whole house, the bright blue messy on top of his head. 

“Should we go?” Seonghwa asks, realizing he was all but staring at the younger.

Hongjoong nods, and Seonghwa leads the way to the dining room. As they walk through the halls Seonghwa glances back periodically, sees Hongjoong looking around him with wide eyes at the high ceilings, vast rooms, and seemingly never ending hallways. 

They sit across from each other at the large wooden table, Hongjoong watching as a maid serves them their drinks and then goes into the kitchen, walking out with their plates, placing each down in front of them before leaving them alone with a bow. Ignoring his own food for a moment, Seonghwa watches Hongjoong eye the plate in front of him. 

“I thought you said you were going to make me dinner?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Uh, yeah?” Seonghwa gestures to the plate in front of Hongjoong full of steaming food, confusion apparent in his voice. 

“No, yeah I know, I just thought that you- actually nevermind, forget it.” Hongjoong waves him off, digging into his food like he’s starving, which Seonghwa remembers he’d mentioned he is.

Seonghwa knows what he means, he had said he’d make him dinner without thinking about it, he just doesn’t see why it matters to Hongjoong. He shrugs it off, starting to eat his own meal as well. While it’s no less silent than when he’s by himself, Seonghwa’s hit with the fact that this is the first time he’s eaten with another person in longer than he can remember. 

“So where are you from?” Seonghwa decides he might as well make the most of it while he has another person to talk to.

“Anyang.” Hongjoong doesn’t even look up at him.

“How long have you been here?” Seonghwa tries again. 

This sparks a reaction from the other, but his eyes are cold when they find Seonghwa’s. “Look, just cut the superficial bullshit, okay? I know neither of us are interested in small talk.” 

Hongjoong continues eating, looking away from Seonghwa, who reluctantly does the same. He eats for another few minutes in silence, until the unease eats away at him more than is tolerable. Why can’t Hongjoong ever just be agreeable?

“Fine. Then how about I ask you a different question. If you know who I am, and you hate me, and you didn’t want money or anything from me, then why did you save me today?” 

Seonghwa can see the slight shift in Hongjoong’s rough expression, he hadn’t expected the question. 

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Hongjoong answers simply, “Not that you would know anything about that.” 

Seonghwa can’t help but wince at the jab, not that it’s anything he hasn’t heard before, but it almost digs a little deeper coming from Hongjoong. He lets another stretch of silence pass before he speaks again. 

“Do you work?” He asks, and Hongjoong eyes him incredulously, “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s not just small talk, I’m actually curious.” 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “I’m an artist.” 

“Oh, that’s… nice.” Seonghwa grasps for something to say, “Did you always want to be an artist?” 

“Yeah, ever since I can remember. I’ve always loved art and fashion.” Hongjoong answers, and Seonghwa feels triumphant for getting a sincere response out of him. 

“Did you go to school for it?” Seonghwa doesn’t want to lose the momentum of civility they’re building up. 

“I wanted to, it was all I wanted, really.” Hongjoong’s voice softens as he pushes the remainder of his food around his plate.

“What happened?” 

“My parents would never support me, and I couldn’t afford it on my own.” Hongjoong pauses, “They threw me out when I refused to go to school for anything other than art.”

Seonghwa frowns as he watches Hongjoong tell his story. He seems resigned, reflective even, but Seonghwa doesn’t sense any regret from him as he tells him about his past. 

“Why’d you refuse?” Seonghwa asks.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong tilts his head. 

“Why didn’t you go to school for something else? You could’ve done something practical and made money.” 

“God, you sound just like them.” Hongjoong scoffs, rolling his eyes again, more malice behind the action this time. 

“Is that bad though?” Seonghwa challenges, “Maybe they were right.” 

“They were assholes!” Hongjoong’s dark eyes pierce through him, “They disowned me just because I wanted to pursue something I’m passionate about, something that makes me happy, and now you’re going to sit there and tell me they were right?”

Hongjoong shoves his plate away from him, shaking his head. “We can’t all have mommy and daddy give us everything on a silver spoon, Seonghwa.” He spits. 

“Don’t act like you know me, Hongjoong. You’re not the only one with family problems.” Seonghwa counters, his voice low. 

“Oh, poor little rich boy has it  _ so  _ rough! Yeah right.”

Seonghwa feels himself stiffen, his veins boiling over with rage. 

“My mom left before I was old enough to walk, and I haven’t even seen my dad in person since I was eight years old. I was raised by maids. I’ve never even heard him tell me he loves me.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth snaps closed when he finishes his rant. Him and Hongjoong can only stare at each other, both of their chests rising and falling heavily. He hadn’t planned on disclosing his personal problems to Hongjoong tonight, but he has a way of working his way under Seonghwa’s skin that takes him by surprise every time, and he can’t hold onto his composure. 

“I’d rather have no love than have it and have it taken away.” Hongjoong says, his voice distant. 

“I’ve never heard  _ anyone  _ tell me they love me.” Seonghwa adds, intent on proving to Hongjoong he isn’t exaggerating his lonely, emotionless upbringing.

Hongjoong seems to actually pause in surprise at his confession before he continues, “Still, you’re rich, you can have everything you want.” 

“Money isn’t everything, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa yells, his fist hitting the table. Hongjoong doesn’t even flinch, just looks at him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips and a knowing look in his eyes. 

Seonghwa huffs, reaching his limit of Hongjoong’s high horse act, and focuses solely on what’s left of his food. Hongjoong seems to get the hint and does the same. Neither of them say anything while they pick at their plates, the silence between them muddled by their thoughts. 

“I think I should go.” Hongjoong announces. Seonghwa doesn’t have the energy to dissect what those words make him feel. 

“Okay.” 

He walks Hongjoong to the front door, both of them remaining silent, amplifying the quiet already present in the empty house. The sky is dark when Seonghwa opens the door for Hongjoong. 

“Thank you for dinner.” Hongjoong turns to him, his voice the definition of impersonal professionalism.

“You’re welcome.” Seonghwa answers, searching for something he can’t find in Hongjoong’s eyes. Hongjoong looks back at him, waits while Seonghwa tries to put together the words for what he wants to say to him, but he doesn’t know what it is.

Seonghwa takes too long to continue, and the moment is lost, “Goodnight Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says, and he walks away from him, down the large driveway and into the night. Seonghwa wonders where he’s going. 

When Hongjoong’s out of sight Seonghwa closes the door, and he’s alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “When a rich person’s life is saved by a homeless person, they invite them to dinner to say thank you”
> 
> Wow I can't believe these are done already!! I've enjoyed the challenge of some of the prompts, and I'm happy with what I came up with this month (:
> 
> Also I actually really like this idea, so if it seems like it ends abruptly it's because I already started continuing it, and I'll be posting that soon!
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and Happy Holidays!!


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